DC Earth 28 Story-Batman: Life Story
by AzureSpider
Summary: Batman's 80th birthday is this year, and in celebration I give you this story, which is also my 50th Fan-Fic here! Inspired by both the excellent Spider-Man: Life Story and Superman/Batman: Generations, this is a Batman who debuted in May of 1939, and from there on aged normally as he continued to battle evil through the decades. Spanning 80 years, it's an epic worthy of Batman.
1. 1930s: First Encounters

**Author's Notes: Decided to do this to celebrate Batman's 80th Birthday this year, and also because the excellent Spider-Man: Life Story gave me the idea. Enjoy!**

_1939_

It's always dark in Gotham City.

Even when it's daytime, the sun rarely if ever shines it's lights _too_ brightly. Dark clouds often obscure the sun entirely, and even when rays of light push through, they're faint. Weak.

Light is weak in Gotham. Darkness is strong. It has always been this way.

Lately though, some of that darkness has actually been helpful to Gotham's people. Well, _one _kind of darkness anyway. One specifically. A man.

A Batman.

The sound of the grapple hook clinking with the edge of the roof was faint, but Batman could still hear it. Nonetheless, he always hated this next part. _Hated _it.

_I **need **to find some way of making the grapple sturdier and more reliable. Firing it out of a gun maybe?_

Still, the grapple was successful here, and Batman contented himself with that. He wasn't always so lucky. Swiftly climbing up, Batman walked over to another side of the rooftop and scanned the scene below:

Five gangsters were visible in plain view. Batman knew there were definitely more lurking just out of sight. He also knew that there might be snipers lurking on fire-escapes, or rooftops too distant for him to see them clearly. A few might even be in rooms within some of the nearby buildings. There was no way to know.

But, Batman had already planned for that. He had been forming plans and strategies in his head well before he got to this point. And the one he liked best was one of the simplest: stay out of sight and tail the men who left the scene. Then ambush them when they were far enough away from their fellows and in no position to get help from elsewhere. To make sure the ambush was successful, Batman had taken the liberty of using his wealth to anonymously bribe some men into setting up detour signs and other obstacles to force the car to go where Batman wanted it to go. Namely, a fairly remote place where there was no chance of other gang members in disguise waiting to come in to lend a helping hand. Also no civilians around to get caught in the crossfire.

A sixth gangster appeared. The five men got into the waiting car, with the three in the back having to squeeze in next to each-other. The sixth man saw them off and then vanished back into the shadows of the alleyway. Batman made a mental note of the location in case he needed to go back later and deal with that one gangster. But he was hoping the ones in the car would know what he needed to know. He was fairly certain they would; that three men were willing to squeeze in so close to each-other suggested that they couldn't part company, which in turn suggested that they were important in some way. Most likely one was special, and the other four were there for protection. But that much protection for one man further suggested that yes, Batman was on the right trail.

The planted roadblocks and detour signs did their jobs, and soon the car was right where Batman wanted it, he following all the while across the rooftops, black scalloped cape billowing in the wind. His costume didn't exactly keep him warm in the chill night air, but he couldn't well wear a fur-coat over his batsuit. That just wouldn't look right.

_Perhaps I should invest in a cold-weather costume._

The car finally drove over the caltrops Batman had planted in advance and the tires blew out. That was his cue.

Leaping down from the roof, Batman landed on the car with enough force to crush it's front and shatter the front window. The gangsters inside ripped out a flock of expletives. Arms shooting in, Batman grabbed each of the two men in the front seats and heaved them out of the car, throwing them out. Backflipping into the air, he landed and quickly went from one thug to the next, downing each of them. By the time he did, the other three were out of the car, but Batman was on the move before they could open fire. Moving too quickly to be tracked, the men ended up wasting a lot of lead before Batman dove into them. He swiftly took out the two with machine guns before grabbing the last thug, kicking his pistol out of his hand as he did so and hoisting him aloft with one hand. With his other hand, he wrenched the box the man had been carrying out of his grasp.

"No, no! Y-you can't touch that! You ain't allowed! Only the professor can..."

"Listen to me very carefully." Batman said matter-of-factly, cutting him off. "I know who you work for. I know what he's been doing in this city for the last six months. And I _also _know that every man he's sent after me, or who has gotten in my way, has ended up in the hospital. Unless you want to go there too, you'll tell me what I want to know."

"I...I...I don't...I don't know anything..."

"Wrong answer." Batman said simply before slamming the man roughly against the wall. "What's in the box!?"

"It...please...he'll k-kill me..."

"What makes you think I won't?"

"Alright, alright! It...it's chemicals. The professor made them. For his...experiments. He needed us to get more for him, said he had run out and needed more from the storage in his lab."

"Where's his lab?"

"Hidden, in...in the abandoned hospital. The one near the East End."

Batman nodded. He had assumed as much. But that brought him to the _next_ question: "Where is your boss now?"

What color was left in the gangster's face drained away, and he became the color of his pinstripe suit. "No, no, man! Please..."

Raising the hand holding the box, Batman kept it hovered in front of the man's face. "I can drive this into your head with more then enough force to draw blood with the first hit. A few more, and your skull will be crushed."

"He'll _kill_ me..."

"One..."

"Alright, aright!" The gangster screamed, and by now he was actively weeping. "OK, OK! He's outside the city! An old lighthouse overlooking the river!"

"Which one?"

"The west one!" The gangster shrilled. Then louder. "**_The west one!_**"

Batman nodded. Smart move on Hugo Strange's part, having his one lair so far away from the second.

"Thanks." Batman said dryly before elbowing the man into unconsciousness. As he was tying him and his fellows up, he was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash. Whipping around, Batman frowned at the sight: standing there, in the middle of a small crater he had made with his landing, was a handsome young man with black hair in a form fitting blue costume with red boots, belt, and cape. On his chest was a yellow shield logo with an "S" in the center.

Batman recognized him. Anyone would. It was why men in their..."profession" wore the costumes. It helped make sure everyone who saw them knew who they were, and what they stood for.

He was Superman. Metropolis' resident costumed hero.

"_You_. I thought you worked in Metropolis?"

"Normally yes, but I was in the neighborhood."

"Leave."

Superman raised an eyebrow. "I think that's a little uncalled for..."

"This is _my _city."

"We're after the same man."

Batman considered that. Cautiously, he asked: "Professor Hugo Strange?"

Superman nodded. "Yes. I have reason to believe that he's working with a man from _my_ city. A criminal scientist named Lex Luthor. What exactly they're planning, I don't know. But _Daily Planet _reporter Lois Lane was investigating his activities. She's since gone missing."

Batman wasn't surprised by that. He'd heard stories about Lex Luthor, same as he'd heard stories of Superman. And where the latter saved people who were in danger, those who crossed the former tended to be discovered at the bottom of the river at a later date.

"She's probably dead."

"All the more reason why Luthor and Strange need to be stopped. They can't be allowed to hurt or kill anyone else."

Batman didn't disagree with that. But he was still leery about accepting help from this godlike being he knew hardly anything about. As far as Batman was concerned, Superman was too powerful. It was too much for any one man to have. On that level, he actually didn't disagree with Lex Luthor's well-publicized criticisms of Superman before his fall from grace as Metropolis' favorite genius inventor. He might be a hated criminal now, but had he only gone as far as being wary of Superman, Batman would have had no beef with Lex Luthor.

But, however much he considered Superman untrustworthy and even potentially dangerous, Lex Luthor and Hugo Strange were the more immediate threats. He reasoned that he could go after them on his own and let Superman fumble around for the answers in the meanwhile, but he thought better of it. Superman could needlessly disrupt things in Gotham City while searching aimlessly for Luthor and Strange. If he and Batman went to the lighthouse together, at least then Batman could direct his strength towards the right people.

"I have a lead." Batman said at last. "One of these men told me that Strange is hiding in a lighthouse just outside Gotham City. One to the west."

Superman nodded. "Very well. We'll go together." He extended a hand for Batman to shake. Batman looked at the expression of hopefulness and a desire to be friendly on Superman's face and found himself not liking it. Batman didn't _need_ any friends or partners in his war on crime, besides Alfred (and the police, if he could get it). At least, that's what he was often telling himself.

But, on the other hand...was it _really_ wise to make an enemy out of Superman needlessly?

Batman took the hand and shook it. "Together." He affirmed. He turned around. "Follow me. We're taking my car."

-X-

Lois Lane, _Daily Planet_ reporter and tireless seeker of truth, was right now a regrettable finder of it.

Tied up tightly (_too _tightly, her hands were feeling numb), gagged with stuffing in her mouth and a large white cloth wrapped tightly around the lower half of her head, Lois was presently the "guest" of two men who could best be described as all brains and no heart.

"I really wish that you had not brought the girl here, Mr. Luthor." Hugo Strange said, shaking his head as he did. Strange was a man somewhere in his late forties or early fifties, bald but with a black beard, and wearing round spectacles with opaque orange-red lenses that obscured his eyes and gave him an especially sinister aspect. Not that the cold, unsympathetic look on the face of Lex Luthor was any better at putting one at ease.

"Miss Lane was, as always, too nosy for her own good." Luthor returned with his effortless arrogance. "Isn't that right, Miss Lane?"

Lois responded with some rather colorful responses that didn't quite come out right thanks to the gag. Lex gave a contemptuous scoff and walked off, now resuming his conversation with Hugo Strange: "Are you sure that this experiment of yours will work?"

"Experiments plural, Mr. Luthor. And _yes, _yes I am. I have already achieved success with both of my...erm, 'test subjects'. Both Mr. Karlo and Mr. Gold are far more than normal men now."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Luthor scoffed. "I'm taking a big risk coming out this far and trusting you."

"All will be rewarded when your costumed foe and mine both make their way here."

"They know where we are?" Luthor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Either they do now or they soon will. Don't underestimate the Batman. He's a most diligent and persistent foe. Truth be told, I find him a most intriguing specimen. Enough so that I'd rather not kill him. I would love to _study _him."

"If he gets in our way, then he dies right alongside Superman. I don't care who he is or how 'fascinating' he is. I don't tolerate opposition or interference from anyone."

Lois struggled against her bonds again, but it did no good. Her white gloved fingers had difficulty undoing the bindings as well. Luthor shook his head at the sight. "I hope your creations can dispose of _her, _at the very least. I detest dirtying my own hands."

-X-

Batman's car, which in later years would be replaced by his more iconic vehicle of choice, was a bright red convertible made by the finest engineers. It's design was similar to that of the Cord 812, which would not be widely available until a few years later. But such was the wealth and connections of Batman and his alter-ego that he had access to such a vehicle. It boasted other features, including things that no ordinary car could possess; its engine was supercharged, capable of incredible speeds the likes of which was unheard of in a car in 1939. And, as it was about to demonstrate as it came within sight of the lighthouse, it made for one hell of a battering ram in a pinch.

A fine, deafening crash rang through the area as the car drove through the wall of the lighthouse with no damage sustained. Lois Lane whipped around and her eyes widened at the sight. Luthor practically jumped out of his skin in spite of himself, and even the normally icy Hugo Strange seemed shaken. Leaping out of the car was Superman, attention immediately turned to the helpless Lois Lane. Batman soon followed, ready for battle.

"Ah, Batman." Hugo Strange greeted. "And I see you've brought a friend. One who shares your taste in...'ahem', extravagant fashions."

"Let Miss Lane go, Strange." Superman warned. "I can't guarantee your safety otherwise."

"Oh, I'm not the one who is in danger here, Superman." Hugo Strange said with a smile. He turned to one side: "You can come out now."

Stepping out of the shadows, were two monstrous beings who each seemed to all present save Strange and Luthor affronts to nature; one was a massive, hulking brute with ghost white skin and hair, enormous muscles and biceps, and tattered black clothing that may have once been a tuxedo or suit but now didn't look like much of anything. There was a madness in the creature's eyes, a cruel, bestial fury that promised only violence for any who got in it's way.

But it was the second who was even more disturbing and horrifying; in appearance it was vaguely humanoid, in that it stood upright and had legs, arms, and head. But that was where the similarities to a normal man ended; the creature was far taller than any man, and stood even taller than the white skinned brute. It's body was made not of flesh and bone, but instead of brown, dripping clay. It had a mouth, but the teeth were too far apart from one another, and it's eyes were blank, pitiless, orbs of white.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my two colleagues, Mr. Basil Karlo, and Mr. Cyrus Gold. Or, as I prefer to call them, 'Clayface' and 'Solomon Grundy'. I think you can guess who is who." He smiled coldly. "Now, Mr. Karlo and Mr. Gold, if you would be so kind as to..._remove _our uninvited guests from the premises. And, though I find it somewhat distasteful, Miss Lane too, while your at it."

Upon hearing this, Superman immediately raced to Lois Lane's side, but Clayface whipped around and shot out a torrent of clay that was an extension of the creature's arm in their direction. Shielding Lois Lane with his body, Superman took the torrent of clay head-on. Solomon Grundy too began lumbering towards Superman.

"No, no, kill Batman!" Luthor shouted at him. "Divide and conquer!"

Solomon Grundy wasn't intelligent enough to understand that concept, but he _was _capable of following basic orders, especially ones involving violence. So it was that he turned around and directed his attentions to Batman. Raising his meaty white hands over his head, Grundy slammed them down into the ground, but Batman leaped backwards to avoid the attack. The fists slammed into the ground, sending up dust and leaving a small crater. At the same instant, Batman jumped into the air, kneeing Grundy in the face. The attack sent blood out of one nostril and caused the brute to grunt and stagger. Taking advantage of this, Batman followed it up with several rapid-fire punches and kicks, but Grundy's skin was so tough and thick that each blow hurt. Grundy flailed and roared, and Batman kept moving, not wanting to chance even a single direct hit from the brute.

Meanwhile, Superman had leaped high up to the upper level of the lighthouse, depositing Lois Lane and tearing off her bindings before leaping back down to confront Clayface. He took the jets of clay without slowing and slammed into the creature. That caused bits and pieces of Clayface to go flying in all directions, but this didn't defeat him. To Superman and Batman's horror, all the mounds of clay began to move towards one another, converging in a single location and reforming into Clayface.

Clayface roared, and morphed it's hands into a giant hammer and a mace head. Both were hardened, and struck out at Superman. The hits staggered him, but the hands fell to pieces upon impact. Quickly reforming, Clayface tried to hit Superman again, but the hero just smashed the hands with his fists before his eyes glowed a burning, fiery red. Beams of intense, red energy shot out of his eyes, hitting Clayface and gradually heating his clay body. Clayface screamed in agony and began to fall back.

For his part, Batman had resorted to just avoiding Grundy and not bothering to attack, as his arms and hands were now badly strained, and he was fairly sure that if he hit Grundy any more he would break the bones in his hands. Peak physical conditioning only did so much after all.

"Superman! Take Grundy out!"

Nodding, Superman charged towards Solomon Grundy. The brute turned _just_ in time to see Superman's fist colliding with his face. The one solid blow was all it took, Solomon Grundy flying through the air and smashing right through the lighthouse wall.

"Follow me!" Batman barked, and thankfully, Superman didn't argue. He ran with Batman, and Clayface, since recovered from Superman's attack, gave pursuit.

"No, you fool! Don't!" Hugo Strange shouted, sensing what Batman was planning. Luthor perceived it too.

"Idiot!" He cursed, but he also sensed that the battle was lost, and ran off in a different direction. As for Clayface, he had not heard his master, and continued to single-mindedly pursue Batman and Superman to the edge of the lighthouse island. What followed next was the predicted (and desired), resolution:

Clayface surged at Batman, who dove to one side to avoid him. Superman picked the brute up and hurled him into the water below. Not about to take chances, Superman also fired his heat vision at what clay was left on his hands from the deed. Not even Superman's vaunted endurance kept him from feeling the pain, but he considered it worth it to make sure that the clay would harden and then crumble to dust.

Batman meanwhile, was racing back into the lighthouse to make sure that Lois Lane was still alright. What he found amused him; Miss Lane standing over Hugo Strange, who was on the ground nursing the area between his legs.

"He tried to run off with me." Lois said simply, before smiling coyly. "But I'm not that kind of girl."

"And yet he captured you before."

"That was Luthor's men, and they snuck up on me." Lois insisted, doing her best to hide the blush of embarrassment as she remembered that incident. She'd already played the damsel in distress role too many times for her liking. She _really _needed to learn how to fight so she could defend herself. But, her old fashioned military father wouldn't hear of it.

"Where's Luthor?" Superman asked, making his way inside the lighthouse.

"Ran off, unfortunately." Lois said. "But at least we got his partner here."

"You won't...be able to make anything stick." Hugo Strange fairly wheezed. "You've no proof..."

"We both know better than that." Batman said. "Your men will testify against you, and if not, Solomon Grundy here is proof enough of what you've been up to. So are the chemicals I took from one of your thugs."

"We'll see." Hugo Strange said, before adding: "Don't be surprised, Batman, if next time it is _you _who I select as my experiment."

Lois kicked him again. "Oh, shut up."

-X-

After the police came to take Hugo Strange away, Superman picked up Solomon Grundy, holding the still unconscious brute like he weighed hardly a thing. "I have a place that can contain a being as powerful as him."

"Not a formal prison." Batman noted. Superman didn't miss the disapproval in his tone.

"I don't like it either, but I think we can both agree that it's for the best. No ordinary prison could ever hold something as strong as Solomon Grundy here, and I don't want to kill him."

Batman couldn't fault that reasoning, but it did convince him that a proper, legitimate prison for such beings was needed at some point in the future. For Solomon Grundy, whatever other monsters mad scientists like Strange and Luthor created...and Superman himself, if it ever became necessary.

But of course, Batman didn't tell Superman that. Instead, he just shook hands with the Man of Steel again, and they parted amicably enough. Not a moment too soon either, because Batman's alter-ego was needed elsewhere very shortly.

Driving his car through those parts of Gotham City not well observed, Batman mused on all that had transpired of late; he had adopted this alias and the costume that went with it just half a year ago, and yet already he had crossed paths with the superpowered being "Superman", while _also_ battling two other superpowered beings. And here he was, a mortal man with no such fantastic powers, fighting the superstitious and cowardly criminals of Gotham with nought but his intellect, equipment, and the training he'd received from the likes of Houdini, Kirigi, and a certain famous detective. Was it telling, that despite that, he had still built up a formidable reputation of his own?

Already, people were talking about him. He was something new, exciting, and dangerous. At least, to the criminals he preyed on, who had come to discover to their regret that no amount of guns, bribes, or police on the take kept them safe from him. That last one _did_ go some lengths towards getting the criminals _out_ of custody, but Batman was already taking steps to correct that problem. There was one cop, a police detective fairly new to the force. A transfer from another city. James Gordon was his name. He was honest, and he shared Batman's commitment to justice even if they went about it differently. Batman was determined to get James Gordon on his side. He just needed to be patient and trust Gordon to recognize that they needed each-other.

Finally, Batman drove his car through the secret entrance to his lair, which itself lay just beneath the mansion of his family, stately Wayne Manor. Exiting the car, Batman wasn't surprised to find that Alfred was already waiting for him.

"I trust that tonight was productive, sir?" Alfred asked.

Alfred Pennyworth had been the Wayne Family butler since Bruce Wayne was a child. He had been a veteran of the Great War and afterwards decided to lead a more peaceful and less stressful lifestyle far away from any trenches or battlefields. How exactly he had come to work for the Wayne family and not, say, a British family, was something of a mystery. But to hear Alfred himself tell it, it was in payment to Thomas Wayne for using his field surgeon skills to save his life in the last few months of the war. Alfred was now in his late forties, and looked just a bit older than that. What he had seen in the trenches had perhaps caused him to go somewhat gray before his time. But in spite of that he was composed, dignified, and unflappable. Batman had never known him any other way, and was sure that he never would.

"Yes, Alfred. Fought my first...what do the newspapers call them again? _Supervillains._"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And I assume by your still being alive that you managed to overcome them?"

Batman grimaced. "I had help."

"Yes, I had heard that Superman character was in town. Good to see you two are already playing nice."

"It's not a game, Alfred." Batman said as he removed his distinct, pointy eared cowl and scalloped cape.

"No, no, of course not." Alfred said as he collected the bits and pieces of the Batman costume one by one. In mere moments, Batman was in an appropriately expensive tuxedo, and Bruce Wayne was ready to meet his guests at last.

"I thought you should know sir..." Alfred said as he followed Bruce out of the cave. "...that Miss Madison called earlier. And that she will be in attendance tonight."

Bruce groaned. Julie Madison. An attractive young socialite and would-be-actress who, it seemed to Bruce, never had the same hair color for very long. Bruce had dated her for a short time, but he was unwilling to take it any further then that. The job came first, and a romantic relationship would, he felt, simply get in the way. And any hope of him trying to make a romance work in spite of his duties as Batman, did not include Julie Madison. He liked her, but not _that_ much. Not enough to let her get between him and what he needed to do.

Unfortunately, Julie liked him more then he did her, and it seemed, wasn't about to give him up easily.

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce said. Alfred ignored the unhappiness in his tone, as he knew it wasn't directed at him. He just hoped Bruce could put the girl down gently, for everyone's sake.

Bracing himself (and not missing the irony of how he found these kinds of parties more intimidating then most battles he was in), Bruce Wayne stepped into the reception hall to greet his guests one by one. Most of them were actually pleasant enough sorts, and Bruce appreciated their contributions to his charity drives. He didn't especially dislike their company, and had known some of them as a child. Since before...

Bruce refused to let himself think of that right now and continued shaking hands and thanking people for coming. Alfred's warning about Julie having been well-founded, he made a note of where she was in the crowd and decided he would speak to her later. He _really _needed to have it out with her.

"Ah! There he is!" Called out a younger man, Tiberius Zimmerman. He was lean, with short red hair, an aquiline nose, and a boyishly handsome face. Like Bruce Wayne he was a younger millionaire, but unlike Bruce his parents were still alive. To his credit, he wasn't half as dissolute as most rich young men who hand't been cut off were. That was part of why he was here now; he shared Bruce's philanthropic streak.

_Now **here's** a good match for Julie. _Bruce thought. He'd just need to convince her of it.

"How are you doing, Bruce?" Tiberius asked, shaking his hand. "We don't see much of you at the country club these days."

"Too busy with other things I'm afraid." Bruce said, which wasn't false. He just neglected to say what those "other things" were.

"Well, suit yourself. More wins for me. You know, my putting has really improved in the last month..."

"I'm sure." Bruce said, before walking off to talk to the next guest, saying as he did: "Enjoy the Sherry."

"Bruce! Good to see you!" Called out another man, this one older than Bruce and Tiberius, and more than a few pounds heavier. "Can I expect you and the other young gents at the next poker game?"

"No promises, Arthur." Bruce said with a non-committal tone to match the words as he kept moving. Bruce had many such past-times when out of the batsuit, though most of them were just parts of his cover. Few were things he especially enjoyed. He _did _like getting to fly experimental planes and drive new cars, but that was in part because he was already planning on constructing his own custom car and plane for his activities as Batman, and he wanted to see which models to base his designs off of. Fencing likewise was just one more skill that could be useful to him, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like winning at it. Golf was a pleasant enough diversion but nothing serious for him, and the practice of poker playing with other rich types was one Bruce had grown to tolerate in his maintaining of a playboy facade, but in secret he detested it.

"And so our gracious host finally revealed himself." Came a smooth, pleasant voice that conveyed charisma with every syllable. This was the voice of Lincoln March, a good friend of Bruce Wayne.

"Nice to see you too, Lincoln." Bruce said, shaking his hand. Lincoln March was about as tall as Bruce Wayne, and nearly as Herculean in physique. Truth be told, he looked a bit like Bruce Wayne also, though his hair was brown rather than jet black. And in yet another similarity, the two men were orphans, though March had not had the benefit of growing up in a place like Wayne Manor, or with a caregiver like Alfred. Still, it seemed that he had managed to survive and prosper in spite of those things, and Bruce admired him for it.

"You know, Bruce, I really wish you'd let me visit more often." March said as the two men continued to socialize, sampling some of the food and drinks that were offered. March was also smoking an imported cigar.

"Wayne Manor's doors are always open to you, Lincoln." Bruce said with a smile. "And so is it's billiard room."

"Ah, just messing with you, Bruce. Truth is, I'm just too busy to come over much these days. And, unfortunately, I think going forwards I'll probably be even moreso."

"Oh?"

Lincoln nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid that, with war having been officially declared just a month ago, the future of all my European business associates and partnerships is about to become very..._uncertain_. I don't know whose going to be sticking with me, whose going to drop everything for the war effort, and whose going to just go underground. Everyone's panicking over there, Bruce. They're worried. And we should be too."

"You think America will join the war?"

"Eventually, yes, I do. And personally I think it would be foolish _not _to. Hitler's a monster. Everyone knows it. You, me, this country, the Brits, the French..." Lincoln trailed off, before shaking his head, as if grasping something too terrible to be expressed. But then, he rather was. He turned to face his friend: "Bruce...be serious with me; if the US _does _get involved...will Wayne Enterprises lend it's support? I'm already planning to commit March Ventures fully and entirely to the business of stopping the Germans and winning the war. No quarter. Will Wayne Industries do the same?"

Bruce thought about that. All at once, he found it impossible to maintain his harmless playboy facade, as he began to genuinely consider everything Lincoln March had told him, and weighed it against his own personal sense of ethics. A gun had killed his parents, and when he had taken over Wayne Industries, he had resolved to not be a war profiteer. Rather, he would advocate for the development of sciences and technologies that would enrich and sustain human life, not take it. So on that level, he would have no problem committing medical supplies and other non-combat provisions to the war effort. He _almost _said as much to Lincoln right then and there, but he didn't. He knew that that wasn't what his friend had meant. He had said "no quarter". And Bruce knew what that implied.

Would he do it? Would he go against his vow to not make weapons? It was not as though the Nazis were in any way a sympathetic or innocent party. They and their leader had made their worldview clear to everyone, and Bruce agreed with Lincoln that they could not be allowed to win now that war had been declared. More to the point, if he _didn't _make weapons for the war, even though he had the power to do so, would that not make him at least indirectly responsible for those who the Nazis would go on to kill? Could he _really_ say that their lives were more worth preserving then those of the innocents they were threatening?

"I...I'm not sure, Lincoln." Bruce finally said. "If it's medical supplies, then yes. Absolutely. But weapons..."

To his surprise (and relief), Lincoln did not castigate him for this answer. "I understand. I...know you have strong feelings against firearms. But it's for a good cause, Bruce. This isn't for war profiteering. It's not about greed. It's about protecting and saving lives from those Nazi animals."

"I know. And that's the only reason I'm considering it at all."

"Fair enough." Lincoln said with a weary smile. He raised his champagne class. "Here's to considering."

"Cheers." Bruce said, though with less enthusiasm then he knew Lincoln wanted. But he couldn't help it. His friend had just put him in a difficult moral conundrum. One that Bruce knew he wouldn't be able to solve easily. He hoped of course that the war would resolve itself _without_ American involvement. But he also knew that was a false hope. The last time Germany had gone to war with the rest of Europe, America had been forced to get involved to end the insanity. It would be no different this time. And that meant he'd have to make a choice.

"I have to say, Bruce, you don't always show a lady the proper attention she's due..."

Turning around, Bruce saw Julie Madison standing there. Her hair was red this time. It had been black _last_ time, and brown the time before that. The first time they'd met, black.

"...hello, Julie."

Julie frowned. "That's it? Really, Bruce I don't know why I bother..."

"I'm...sorry, Julie. I shouldn't have stood you up before. I know we should have talked sooner, I've just..."

"...I should probably be going..." Lincoln March said awkwardly.

"No, no, it's alright." Bruce said. He turned back to Julie. "Julie, this is my good friend and COO of March Ventures, Lincoln March. Lincoln, this is Julie Madison."

When she saw Lincoln March, Julie's disposition brightened considerably, which suited a watching Bruce just fine. She held out her black-gloved hand for him to kiss. "Charmed."

"A pleasure, Miss Madison. I'm sorry if my friend hasn't been treating you square. He should be ashamed."

"Yes, he should be." Julie agreed, though her smile hadn't faded in the least and her tone was teasing rather than bitter or vindictive. Bruce was silently elated. _Looks like I was wrong about Zimmerman being a good fit for Julie. It seems that Lincoln is the man instead. _

But, knowing he still needed to play his part, Bruce said: "I really am sorry, Julie. The truth is, I...well, as much as I've enjoyed our time together I don't think a committed relationship would work. In a manner of speaking, I'm already married. To my work, I mean."

Julie frowned in the face of this. Bruce had actually attempted to tell her this before, but she had not been receptive then. Now though, after glaring at him for a few moments more, she at last nodded. "Very well, Bruce. But its your loss."

Perhaps it was. Julie Madison was a beautiful woman, and pleasant enough, when her pride wasn't wounded as it was now. But Bruce failed to sense a real spark of chemistry with her. She didn't excite him enough in the end, and he didn't feel like he ever had much to say to her that wasn't so rooted in his playboy act. He couldn't be in a loving relationship with a woman who didn't really know him, and who he didn't actually trust enough to tell her the truth. And given the choice between letting go a woman he liked well enough but didn't, and in some ways, _couldn't _love, and compromising his mission, the choice was clear. And if Julie found happiness with a good friend of his instead, then so much the better.

As if on cue, Lincoln interjected: "It certainly is his loss. Care for some of this champagne, miss Madison?"

"More sherry for me, but thank you, Mr. March."

Lincoln obliged, and Julie turned to look at Bruce again, a triumphant smile on her face. "I guess you can't be _all _bad, Bruce. If you have a friend like Lincoln March."

"...thanks, Julie."

_One Month Later_

"Sergeant already, I see."

James Gordon whipped around, and frowned upon seeing the caped crusader in front of him. Granted he _had _been expecting him and had been hoping to meet with and talk to him, but he really did hate it when he snuck up on him like that. This was the third time now, and he still hadn't gotten used to it.

"I'm...glad you came." Gordon said lamely.

"I go where I'm needed." Batman replied, before adding: "And I knew you wanted to find me."

"Yes, I did. I want us to talk."

"I'm listening."

"Look, officially, you're operating outside the law. Now some of what you do, we can say you were playing Good Samaritan, helping people who needed it and the like. But you _also _go looking for trouble. You seek out criminals to fight. And that's something that's a lot harder to call 'legal'. But on the other hand, the force is rotten, and we both know it. No sense denying it anymore. And it's _also _true that some threats are too big for the police to handle alone, like that 'Solomon Grundy' you and Superman dealt with last month. And as long as both of those things remain true, I'm...willing to accept your help. I'll do what I can to keep some of the cops off your back, and in the meantime, you'll help us deal with threats like Doctor Death and that Mad Monk lunatic from a few months back."

"Agreed." Batman said with a nod. Then, he added. "You've made a wise choice, Sergeant Gordon."

James Gordon waved his hand dismissively. "Please, please, call me Jim. After all..." He grimaced. "...you're not one of my officers, are you?"

Batman allowed himself the slightest of smiles. "No, I'm not." He held out a hand, and Gordon took it.

"Here's to a partnership."

"You know, it'll be a new year in a few hours. New decade too. Any resolutions?"

"Yes. And it's going to be the same one next year too. And the year after that. And the year after that."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Keep Gotham City safe. And make it better."

**Author's Notes: I****n case anyone is wondering why Superman never flies here, the answer is simple: 1930s Superman didn't fly. That was a power the character would get later on. But in the late 30s he didn't have it.**

**Likewise, Hugo Strange, Solomon Grundy, Basil Karlo Clayface, Doctor Death, and Mad Monk are all Batman villains who predate Joker and appeared in 1939, which is why I used them here. Fret not, there will be _plenty _of Joker later on. **

**And no, Tiberius Zimmerman is not an actual DC comics character. He's an OC. I could have included someone like Harvey Dent, but as he debuted in 1942, I chose to come up with an original character instead. This is still 1939 after all. The one exception to that (obviously), is Lincoln March. **


	2. 1940s: In Love and War

_1942_

Gotham City felt emptier these days. Actually, it wasn't a feeling. It _was _emptier.

It had been less than a year since Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor and the United States had declared war forthwith. A draft had followed, and all of a sudden a great many of the young men in Gotham were gone, off to help fight in the war against the Axis Powers alongside countless others throughout the United States.

And in all probability, Batman would soon be joining them.

He didn't like the prospect, but it was a thought that stayed with him no matter how many rooftops he ran across, no matter how much he drove his new, specially made car dubbed "The Batmobile", and no matter how many criminals he stopped. _Criminals. _That they didn't stop for anything, not even a war that's outcome would decide the future of the world forever, didn't surprise Batman. But it _did _ensure he hit them twice as hard as usual.

_I'd say they should all be drafted as punishment, but superstitious and cowardly men make for bad soldiers._

But as to the matter of going overseas, Batman's problems were twofold; first, with a draft, Bruce Wayne would likely be heading off too unless he bought his way out of service, but that would never do. He could afford to be seen as a harmless playboy but not a cowardly slacker. Among other things it would hinder his ability to use Bruce Wayne for good in the future if no one wanted to be associated with him. But of course, if he were to do his duty as Bruce Wayne, there would be certain..._expectations_.

_I've sworn **never** to kill. But the only way I can be sure to honor that is if I fight as Batman, not Bruce Wayne. _

And there was still the matter of whether or not he would do as Lincoln March had asked. Should he have Wayne Industries make weapons? He was already hearing that demand disguised as a request from many other angles, and he knew he couldn't prevaricate for long, if at all. He needed to give an answer, and fast.

_Damn this war. _Batman thought ruefully. He shot out his grappling hook pistol again, and it's claw embedded itself in the side of a gargoyle statue. Batman swung through the air easily, before zipping up to the statue proper. From this position on one of Gotham's older and more gothic buildings he looked out over his city again. And the more he did, the more he let a single sobering fact sink in: he was losing control. The war was taking it away from him. He couldn't stay here in a city that still needed him, and now it was looking more and more like he wouldn't be able to honor the promise he'd made to himself years ago regarding Wayne Industries. Not in good conscience at least. A code against killing he might have, but innocent lives still took priority over the lives of evildoers. And to not do his part in the war effort out of concern for killing Nazis, would be counter to that.

_I might not be able to stop them from forcing me to make weapons for the war...but maybe that's it. Maybe I should let it come to that. Make them force me._

No. That wouldn't work either. For one thing, he might go to jail over it, and he couldn't help _anyone_ there. No, loathe as he was to admit it, he _had_ to make a choice and stick to it. And more and more he knew what choice he was probably going to make. Unless...

_Yes. Yes, that might just work. I just need to talk to Alfred and Lincoln to discuss it._

On that count, he was in luck. There was going to be a party that very night, something to try and keep everyone's spirits up even in the face of the war. Bruce could talk to Lincoln and propose his idea there. The party in question was in celebration of efforts made to support the troops with various supplies. Some might consider such an extravagance to be in poor taste with what was going on, but the rich that remained still wanted to try and convince themselves that the world _wasn't_ coming to an end. It was to Batman's clinical assessment less callous indifference and more desperate denial. For many the thought of America actually losing the war and being invaded by the living embodiment of everything that was anathema to the country's principles, was too terrible to bear. So those that remained and weren't hit as hard by rationing did the only thing they could, which was to try and cope through parties and other festivities. It was the same reason they were still making movies over in Hollywood.

The sound of an alarm being tripped got Batman's attention, and he was silently grateful for something to take his mind off all his ruminations. Turning to the source, he fired his grapple-hook pistol at a nearby roof and began making his way over to the source. A museum. That suggested a certain kind of thief, and it was no common bank robber or jewel swiper.

_It couldn't be **her** though... _Batman thought as he reached the roof of the museum in full. _It's too sloppy to be her. _Perhaps he just didn't _want _to think it was her. Loathe as Batman was to admit it, she had gotten his attention in a big way since they'd first crossed paths two years ago, and not just because she was a criminal. Most criminals he forgot the details of the moment he made sure they got put away. Not her though. She was something special.

_I can't think like that. I can't allow myself to become...**distracted**._

Opening a roof window and making his way inside, Batman saw a man in all black who was now unconscious on the floor of the museum. A quick scan of the place revealed that a statue was missing from its pedestal. It didn't take Batman long to guess what had happened.

_So it **is **her after all. _

Exiting the museum, Batman ran and _just_ managed to see a dark blip in the distance moving away fast. Taking out his grapple-hook gun, Batman began swinging and zipping through the air as fast as he could. Sure enough, as he began to slowly but surely close the distance, he saw her in full.

She wore a form-fitting costume like his, but hers was made of leather and accentuated her figure more. In contrast to his gray with some black plus purple gloves, she was dressed in black with violet purple details, with a green cape and thigh high boots with heels and opera gloves that ended in claws, both in black leather. Her purple cat cowl didn't cover her entire head, as her long, midnight black hair spilled out of the back. She carried a black bullwhip, and it was her means by which she traversed in lieu of the grapple-hook pistol Batman used. She even had her own equivalent to his utility belt, though the gadgets were less advanced. Owing to inferior resources, no doubt.

Her name, was Catwoman. Or at least, that was her costumed alias. He hadn't yet learned who she was beneath the mask, though he was planning on figuring it out eventually.

She noticed him as he got closer. "Ah, Batman. My _favorite_ stalker. You didn't like the present I left you in the museum?"

"You're committing the same crime he did."

"Now don't insult me, handsome. _I _do it with a lot more style and class then that amateur."

"Stealing is still stealing."

The chase continued until they were near a tall enough building that Batman felt safe doing what he was about to do. Swinging forwards, he kicked Catwoman out of the air, sending her crashing down onto the rooftop below as Batman caught the satchel holding the statue before it could plummet. A normal person would have broken at least a few bones, but Catwoman, like Batman himself, was far tougher than an average person. He didn't know anything about her training or her physical conditioning, but whatever it was, it had been thorough.

"That _hurt._" Catwoman said in a faux-pouty tone. "Don't you know how to treat a lady?"

"I know how to treat criminals." Batman retorted as he landed on the same rooftop, setting the satchel down as he did.

Catwoman smirked, and it was equal parts challenging and naughty. "Oh come on now; we both know I'm not just another criminal to you, am I?"

Batman prepared himself, and soon Catwoman was on him. The whip aside, her fighting style mostly revolved around the French martial art Savate. Batman knew that one too, and was no less proficient in it. Both also knew Karate and Judo, and it was apparent that Catwoman had learned her lessons in those well, same as him.

Jiujitsu proved useful in getting Catwoman to the ground, but she was as flexible and slippery as she was martially skilled, and so slipped free of his grip to continue her attacks. He was at least able to disarm her of her whip though, after grabbing her arm, twisting it behind her back, and kicking her forwards.

"You always play rough." Catwoman noted happily before moving in again, this time with claws bared. Batman concentrated on keeping her claw strikes away from his face, and he had to admit that it was harder then he would have liked, each hit coming in so fast he nearly didn't counter them in time. Catwoman abruptly switched to a spinning kick followed by another one. Batman blocked the first kick but not the second, which staggered him and forced him back, and he nearly lost his balance. Seizing her chance, Catwoman lunged. Batman grabbed one arm by the wrist, but the second clawed hand managed to scratch at his costume, tearing it and the skin beneath and leaving claw marks on his black bat logo. Batman yelled in pain in spite of himself and fell back. Catwoman's claws from that hand were now glistening crimson, and Batman could see blood on the roof.

"Looks like I've drawn first blood this time." Catwoman said with a smirk.

Batman said nothing, instead glaring and getting back into a fighting stance. The combat resumed, Batman fighting in spite of his injury. As they continued to trade blows, cycling between what martial arts styles they knew, Batman couldn't help but notice that Catwoman seemed to try just a bit less hard where attacks at his face were concerned. He could guess why. Especially when, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he extended her the same courtesy.

Another hit he barely blocked. He should have seen that one coming much sooner. He really _did _pull his punches against her.

Finally though, he managed to grab one arm and twist it behind her back again. A kick to her leg took away her balance, and several rapid strikes to her shoulders and stomach followed before he grabbed her again and wrestled her to the ground. Now he had her pinned.

"Damn. Really thought I had you that time..."

"You're going to jail." Batman said darkly. He was right on top of her now, and the close proximity of their bodies and the up-close look at her beautiful face were threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't believe that he was actually in danger of succumbing to such feelings. He was far more disciplined then that. And it's not as though she was the first beautiful woman he had seen up close.

But then, it wasn't just that she was beautiful that drew him to her. It was everything about her; the way she got his attention, the way she made him chase her, her confidence, her wit, the fact that her fighting skills and physical conditioning were at levels approaching his own. Simply put, she felt like something that none of the socialites, society women, and that Vicki Vale reporter did: his equal. And he liked that. And he suspected she did too. He couldn't imagine any ordinary man being even remotely capable of keeping up with her. He gave her a challenge as much as the opposite was true.

Catwoman gave a look of mocking pity. "Aw, are you still mad I scratched you a bit? Here, let me make it better..." Moving her head forwards, she kissed him on his wounded chest. Pulling her head back, she smiled. A _very_ naughty one this time. "I can make the bruises better too. Just tell me where it hurts."

"_Don't_."

"Come on, Bats. Don't be sore with me. We've done this a few times now. Aren't you the least bit interested?"

"I..." He hesitated. He shouldn't have, he should have said that he just wanted to bring her to justice or some other lie. But that was what it would have been. A lie. And he couldn't do that with her. Not here.

Catwoman sensed it. "Aha. So you _are _interested." She smiled again. "Well then come on, handsome. Don't be shy."

Shy? No, that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. Rather it was because they were on opposing sides of the law. She was a criminal who took what was not her's to take. Granted, he too broke the law, but only in the pursuit of a greater good. If he had to steal something, it would be to save lives. But Catwoman, so far as Batman could tell, stole only for herself.

Batman was all set to tell Catwoman as much when she wrapped her legs around him and forced him off her. Getting up, she whipped around to kick out of the air a projectile very similar to Batman's batarangs. Functionally identical, in fact. Well they should be; Batman had designed them that way.

"Batman! I've got your back!"

Catwoman chuckled and shook her head. "I can see you've brought your cute little sidekick along. How adorable."

"Actually, I followed you myself." Robin said darkly, standing his ground. "Now back off, feline. Or I'll show you just how 'adorable' I am."

"Go home before I spank you, brat." Catwoman shot back with more condescension then anger. This distraction though, allowed Batman to make another attack on Catwoman and begin to handcuff her. Catwoman slapped Batman with her free hand, and managed to kick him back before she could be fully handcuffed. She gave him another naughty smile.

"Do you always get kinky with the girls?" She teased. Robin charged, but Catwoman was already on the move, darting to where her whip was and reclaiming it. Robin threw a bola at her legs, but Catwoman avoided this too before running over the edge of the roof, using her whip to swing away.

"She's getting away! Should we pursue?"

"I'd like to, but we have duties elsewhere. Besides..." Batman went over to where the satchel containing the stolen statue was. "...we have what she tried to steal. Let's return it to the museum."

Robin nodded and he and Batman took out their grapple-hook launchers to navigate Gotham City's buildings, the two leaving without another word shared between them. That was part of Batman's training; conveying orders and desires without voice.

Robin had joined Batman's side last year and had been adopted by him the year before that after the murder of his parents. He was only fourteen and yet had already shown himself to be a capable sidekick and crimefighter. Under Batman's training, his natural athletic talent and skills as a circus acrobat were improved to a level beyond what most fully grown men could boast. In fact, Batman felt that Robin was even better then many Olympic Gold winners. Not that there had actually been an Olympics since three years before Batman first appeared, and there might not ever be again.

Such thoughts only served to remind Batman of his dilemma in regards to the war, and that thought stuck with him well after he and Robin returned the statue and went back to Wayne Manor. However, it wasn't the only thought that filled his mind. He also thought of _her_.

_Catwoman..._

In so many ways she seemed like the perfect woman for him. She was capable, talented, determined, intelligent, and yes, very beautiful. That she was a thief was the only thing that gave Batman even the slightest hesitation about giving in fully to his own feelings. He knew Catwoman perceived that he _did_ feel for her, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could deny or suppress it. He also wasn't sure how many more times Catwoman could slip away before he finally caught her. And then what? Would he _really_ turn her in to the police? Then they would never be together. He doubted very much that she'd forgive him if he made her serve out a lengthy prison sentence. Was he secretly _allowing_ her to get away because of this? Deliberately holding back and not trying as hard so that she could escape him again and again? Did he really not have the heart to consign Catwoman to prison?

"Bruce!"

The voice of Richard Grayson shook him out of his thoughts, and reminded him that he was once more Bruce Wayne. He and his young ward were all dressed up now for another charity drive, this one a drive to get the boys overseas more medical supplies, food, and anything that might alleviate their misery such as books and radios. Naturally, a man of Bruce Wayne's wealth had no problem procuring large numbers of every category, and he was to give a speech at the small party being held to celebrate the efforts, and show their support for and solidarity with the troops. And Richard Grayson was going with him, however tedious he might find it.

"You know a part of me wishes I was just a few years older." Richard noted with a mix of petulance and ruefulness. "Then I could go overseas and help lick Jerry and the Japs."

"Japanese." Bruce corrected. "And no, you don't. War is no game or grand adventure, Richard. It's a horror."

"But..."

"I didn't say it wasn't necessary, in this case. Or that we're wrong to fight. But it's no game. If you were to go over there, you would not like what you saw."

"Are _you _going?" Richard asked.

"Unfortunately, I'll probably have to, if only to maintain Bruce Wayne's image. I would rather go over as Batman. Then I would know I could contribute without having to kill anyone."

"Couldn't you be in a role that doesn't involve using a gun?"

"It will probably come to that." Bruce acknowledged. "But if I order men to do something that will involve killing, it will be no different then if I pulled the trigger myself. No, if I _do_ serve as Bruce Wayne..." Bruce trailed off. He had _almost_ acknowledged that he would be prepared to violate his code against killing. Richard perceived it to. "Bruce...would you...would you _really_ kill people overseas? I mean it's the Ratzis, but still..."

"I don't know." Bruce admitted with a weary sigh. "I don't want to kill anyone. But I also don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from."

"Amen to that, partner." Richard agreed with a nod. "I hear Superman has already gone overseas. Him and that lady who showed up last year. The really pretty one with the golden lasso..."

"Yes, I heard about that. The press are calling her the 'Wonder Woman' to his 'Superman'."

"Good thing they're on our side, right?"

"I wonder..." Bruce muttered. He and Superman had worked together a few more times since that initial team-up three years ago, including one where they and Robin had worked together against a new supervillain calling himself "The Scarecrow". But Bruce had never become completely comfortable with the Man of Steel. Especially as he only seemed to become even more powerful over time. And he had the same worries regarding this Wonder Woman character that he did Superman. That there were apparently even more like Wonder Woman on some island somewhere didn't exactly put him any more at ease. Imagine if a whole army as powerful as her decided to conquer "Man's World" rather then send a peace envoy? Suppose that was what they _were_ planning to do, and Wonder Woman's presence was just a facade?

No, he didn't trust them. Not when he still didn't know them all that well.

The drive to the party went by in relative silence. Bruce took note of that. When Richard had first come to Wayne Manor after the murder of the Flying Graysons, he was predictably despondent, angry, and suffering the same kind of agony Bruce had been feeling ever since he was eight years old. Being Robin had given him a sense of purpose and direction, and when they were out there in costume Bruce saw the kind of light-hearted cheerfulness and easygoing confidence that he had first seen when he'd seen the boy perform alongside his parents. But it was clear to Bruce though, that there was still work to be done as far as getting Richard to come out of his shell when not in costume.

Finally, the drive came to an end. Bruce thanked Alfred and got out of the car along with his protege. They received warm greetings from various people, many of them, Bruce noted with silent disgust, being people who had not actually contributed to the cause yet but where happy to enjoy the caviar while it lasted. Still, Bruce effortlessly kept up his smiling facade. Then he met a pleasantly familiar face, and that smile became genuine.

"Lincoln! Good to see you here!" Bruce said, shaking his friend's hand.

"Likewise, Bruce. But then I knew you'd be here. Never one to miss a good cause after all."

"I was actually hoping to speak to you about something."

"Alright, well I'm all ears. Just make it quick. Remember you're going to be giving your big speech soon."

"I know. And I think that might be a good time to make an...announcement."

Lincoln raised an eyebrow at that, and caught on quick to what Bruce was alluding to. "I see...am I correct in assuming that you've finally made a decision regarding Wayne Enterprises' involvement in the war?"

"I have, Lincoln."

Lincoln March seemed apprehensive but hopeful, as Bruce had made sure to give no hint as to what his decision was in his tone. Bruce's eyes then drifted to a very beautiful young woman who looked to be his age not far from where Lincoln was; she had long, jet black hair, wore a white satin dress that showed just a little cleavage, and elbow-length long gloves of the same color and material. She also had more than a passing resemblance to the lovely actress who was big in Hollywood now. Hedy Lamarr, her name was.

_Perhaps its her and she's seen fit to come to the party. _Bruce joked to himself. Lincoln became aware of who his friend was looking at and smiled. "Ah, I see you've met my lovely new assistant." He turned to face her: "Selina, come say hello to a good friend of mine."

The woman in white came over to Bruce and Lincoln, standing next to the latter. "Bruce, this is Selina Kyle. I recently hired her as my secretary and assistant. Selina, this is my old friend Bruce Wayne."

Selina raised a delicate eyebrow. Seeing her up close, Bruce was all the more struck by her beauty. She _really _looked like Hedy Lamarr. Could probably have hired herself as the woman's double if she'd really wanted to. That she was working as a secretary and not a Hollywood Starlet was just a little surprising. _Perhaps she's not much of an actor._

And yet, there was something else to her as well. Something about her face and hair looked...familiar. Her eyes too. Had he seen this woman before?

"Bruce Wayne, huh? _The _great Bruce Wayne? To what do we owe the honor?"

Bruce smiled. "Supporting the troops, Miss Kyle. Wayne Enterprises is completely committed to making sure our boys overseas are well provided and cared for."

Selina nodded. "Good answer." She held out a gloved hand and Bruce kissed it. "Glad to see there's more to you then the stories suggest."

Bruce feigned offense. "Has Lincoln not said anything good about me?"

"Oh, he speaks the world of you. To hear him talk you were the Second Coming. But I've _also_ heard that you're a shallow, self-absorbed playboy."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Selina." Lincoln said with a smile. "I've never met a man more philanthropic then Bruce here." He turned to look at Bruce again. "Selina's a big believer in the cause too, you know. Saw her give a week's earnings to the war fund earlier."

"I may not have your bottomless pockets, Mr. Wayne, but I can go a few days with less if it helps the war effort."

"Beautiful, intelligent, _and _conscientious." Lincoln said proudly. "She really is something, huh Bruce?"

"_She _can speak for herself." Selina said before smiling. "And yes, I am."

Bruce couldn't help but be impressed. She _was _really something. In fact, she was beginning to remind him a bit of...

"Bruce! Bruce, you're going to be up soon!" Called out Zimmerman, which got Bruce Wayne's attention. "Well, looks like I need to get up there and give my speech. But it was very nice to meet you, Miss Kyle."

Selina smiled, and in that moment, her resemblance to that certain _other _witty black haired beauty he knew became all the stronger. "And it was nice to meet you too, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce reluctantly parted company with Selina Kyle and went to the podium where he would deliver his speech to the assembled crowd of philanthropists and free-loaders standing side by side with neither one knowing who was who. Bruce scanned them all, focusing, in spite of himself, on the lovely Selina Kyle. She saw this and returned it with a smirk. Remembering where he was and what he needed to do, Bruce cleared his throat and spoke at last:

"Thank you for coming, everyone. It is my great privilege to oversee and contribute to this drive to give medicine, food, books, and more to our men and women overseas. Now that the United States has chosen to stand alongside the other free nations of the world against the evils of the Third Reich and the Empire of Japan, we must do everything in our power to help them achieve victory. Because we are not just fighting for our own country and its survival, but for the entire world. Hitler has made clear that he wants the entire world, and wants it to be a world only for those precious few he deems worthy of life. This toxic ideology cannot be allowed to triumph. And that is why I have made two decisions; the first, is that Wayne Enterprises will be partnering with March Ventures in a joint effort to supply our army and navy with the very best in supplies and weapons. And the second, is that I will be going overseas to help in the war effort."

This second remark got more than a few gasps of surprise, but once that initial shock had passed, people broke into applause and cheers of jubilation and cries reaffirming their patriotism. Bruce allowed himself a smile in the face of this. Truth be told he still wasn't totally at ease or happy with his decision, but that was also probably the best indicator that he was doing the best thing he could.

"Thank you, thank you all." Bruce said, and his awkwardness was genuine this time. "I hope that you will all continue to support the cause. With any luck, this war can end quickly, and our boys can come home early. With that said, enjoy the party, and help yourselves to the refreshments and food."

Bruce exited the podium, and went down to meet up with Lincoln and Selina. The former was surprised, but pleasantly so. He outright embraced Bruce when the latter got close enough. "Thank you, Bruce. You did the right thing, trust me."

"I...yes, I think I did." Bruce said with a nod. He had to believe that now. If he kept second-guessing himself then he would really be lost. He turned to look at Selina. "And what did _you_ think, Miss Kyle?"

"I have to admit, I'm impressed. Happy to see you're no slacker, Mr. Wayne. I wish you luck overseas."

"Thank you, Miss Kyle. Now, may I make a request?"

"What?"

"Would you be so kind as to join me for dinner, say...tomorrow night?"

Selina made that same naughty smile that reminded him so much of Catwoman. "I...might be busy tomorrow night, Mr. Wayne. But I'll check my schedule."

"If not tomorrow, perhaps..."

Selina held up a hand. "Hold it there, rich boy. I think I like you, but I don't go for fast men. I said I'll check and see. But no promises."

Bruce smiled. "Alright. That's fair. Until then, Miss Kyle." He kissed her hand again, and then went into the crowd to mingle. Even as he did though, his thoughts were still on her.

"Can we go now?" Richard asked over an hour later. "I'm bored out of my skull. I don't know how you can stand all of this."

"I was brought up in this world, remember? It was always expected that I mingle with the rest of the Gotham elite. And you're going to have to learn to do it too."

"Ugh." Richard replied, shaking his head. "Give me a night on the job over this nonsense any day."

"Well, you might be in luck soon. It's late into the night now, and once we're...'called', we'll be able to move out."

Richard smiled at that. Bruce was alluding to the Bat Signal used by the now Lieutenant Gordon to contact Batman and Robin whenever their assistance was needed. The rest of the GCPD didn't like it, but many of them were still corrupt, so Batman and Robin had no real respect for their feelings and opinions as it was.

Bruce noted Selina taking her leave from the party. He _also _noticed that a man was following her. Frowning, Bruce walked off after him, and Richard, seeing this, followed Bruce in turn. The many people in the way made navigating the crowd difficult, and so Bruce wasn't able to reach Selina and the man following her in time. Said man took out a blowgun from his tuxedo jacket and fired a dart into the back of Selina's neck. Selina whipped around, yanking the dart out, but already the nerve-toxin was working, and the man grabbed her and forced her into a shiny black car that had sped up in front of them, though he ended up getting kicked backwards for his troubles. Waiting inside the car was an attractive brunette in a red dress, white leather elbow-length gloves, and golden necklace. She smiled at Selina, but it was a cruel smile. "Hello, darling."

Selina tried to open the car door, but the lady in red surged forwards and grabbed her stomach with one arm while with the other she shoved a large, white handkerchief over her mouth and nose. It was damp with a soporific, ether or chloroform. Same result.

"HHGGHHPPH!" Selina screamed into the cloth, before struggling fiercely.

"Oh, hush. Sssh. Sssshhh. Just breath it in, darling. Don't fight it. Just be a good girl and go to sleep."

Selina didn't take that "advice", and continued to thrash, but it did her no good in the end. The dart's nerve-toxin had already robbed her of much of her strength, and so the woman in red was able to keep the cloth firmly over her mouth and nose. Gradually, Selina's struggles got weaker and weaker, until finally, they were barely audible moans. Smiling, the woman kissed Selina on the forehead. "Sssshhh. That's a good girl. Now close your eyes and sleep. When you wake up, it will all be over."

But Selina had already lost consciousness by the time she had finished those words. By now, the car was far away from the party. But so were Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson, the former of whom had alerted everyone else to Selina's kidnapping. They raced back to Wayne Manor as fast as they could go, and then wasted no time changing into their costumes and getting into the Batmobile, which rocketed out of the Batcave in search of Selina Kyle and her kidnappers.

"How are we going to find them?" Richard asked. "They could be anywhere."

"The man who was following Selina was arrested. He's our lead."

Robin nodded. And he felt sorry for the man in question. He might not talk to the cops, but he _would _talk to Batman.

However, on the drive to the GCPD headquarters, Batman and Robin bore witness to several cars (and everyone in and near them), being violently blown away by rockets. Batman's eyes widened in horror and Robin almost vomited in spite of himself at the sudden, senseless taking of so many innocent lives.

_No. Not now. Not **him.**_

Sure enough, bursting onto the scene was a sleek automobile that was mostly a dark green in color, but with a front that was a garish representation of the face of the man who owned and used the car. A face of chalk white skin, red lips, and a smile to make hearts stop and blood turn cold.

This, was the car of the criminal mastermind known as The Joker, and in consequence, was called "The Jokermobile".

The vehicle swerved around again, looking to fire more rockets, this time into nearby buildings, but the Batmobile rocketed towards it at full throttle. One car slammed into the other hard enough to send it tumbling away, the car rolling like a tumbleweed before at last crashing into several other cars, though unfortunately it ended its tumble right-side up. And out of the car came the Clown Prince of Crime himself.

"Now that was just _rude. _Drivers today. No respect for anyone but themselves! Think the whole road belongs to them!" Joker hefted a rocket launcher, haphazardly painted purple and green and with the words "(S)LAUGHTER" in blood red on the side. "Let's fix that!"

The rocket was fired, but the batmobile fired it's own projectiles to prematurely detonate it before driving right through the fiery explosion. Joker narrowly dove to one side just as the batmobile rammed into the Jokermobile, pushing it forwards and further damaging it. Once that was done, Batman and Robin exited to confront the Joker. They could have always stayed in the car and run him over of course, but Batman wanted to hold onto his no killing code for as long as possible.

"It would seem you're _jealous_ of my fancy new car, Batsy." Joker said as Batman and Robin advanced on him. "Don't like the competition?" Joker laughed before calling out: "You're up, my friend!"

Batman saw Joker's ally just in time and grabbed Robin before diving forwards. Several bullets ripped through the air, narrowly missing their intended targets. The source of the gunshots stepped forwards, revealing himself: he was a physically fit man in a two-toned, half tan brown, half purple tuxedo. One half of his face was handsome and youthful, looking not unlike a statue of a Greek hero and flawed only in the hateful expression upon it. But the _other _half, was a horribly scarred nightmare, the result of acid being thrown into the man's face. That had been only a few months ago, but in that very brief period of time between injury and present, a terrible transformation had occurred in the man. Where once he was Harvey Dent, principled and idealistic young new District Attorney for Gotham City, now he was the vengeful and bloodthirsty criminal known as Two-Face.

"_Harvey_. What are you doing working with Joker? He's the very thing you swore to put away."

"Yes, _Harvey Dent _vowed to clean up Gotham. But you're not looking at the old, _weak _Harvey Dent anymore. You're looking at his _replacement_. And besides..." He raised his gun and fired again. "...vigilantes are criminals too!"

Batman hurled two batarangs at him. Two-Face shot one out of the sky, but the other managed to find its mark, knocking one of his pistols out of his hands. Getting an idea, Robin threw a wingding, and Two-Face shot that also, but the Boy Wonder followed it up with a smoke bomb that Two-Face shot without thinking. He coughed, gagged, and cursed in the face of the smoke and began to fall back.

"Good work, Robin!" Batman praised before going after Joker. The clown had drawn his own gun and fired, but he was no more successful in hitting the Dark Knight then the countless other gunmen who had already tried and failed to shoot him. Grabbing Joker's gun arm, Batman wrenched the pistol out of his grip and began laying into him. Joker shot his foot forwards, a blade popping out of his shoe and nearly stabbing Batman in the gut. Batman just barely managed to side-step, before grabbing Joker's leg and forcing him on his back. Joker rolled to avoid the foot Batman tried to bring down on his face.

"Now really, Batsy if you wanted some quality time you only had to ask!" Joker pulled out a knife and lunged at Batman. Grabbing the maniac's wrist and disarming him of his knife proved child's play, and in a straight-up hand-to-hand fight, Joker offered little challenge. In mere moments, Joker was swaying back and forth and had difficulty retaining his footing while blood trickled out of his nose and mouth.

"You and all your fancy moves. Makes a clown feel inadequate." Joker chuckled weakly. And then in a blur he produced a hand grenade. "But at least I've got the better tricks!" And then with a cackle hurled one in the direction of Robin and Two-Face, who were at that moment engaged in a fight.

"No!" Batman shouted. He called out Robin's name, and he saw the grenade coming in time to dive out of the way. Two-Face did too, but in both cases they only _just_ cleared it. Joker used that to buy himself time to escape, as he did shouting out: "Nothing personal, Two-Face! But I just _had _to try and blow up bird brat! I'm sure you understand!"

"Damn you, clown!" Two-Face cursed, but as he was struggling to get back up Batman and Robin were both on him, and between the two of them he didn't last long.

"Your new friends stink, Harv." Robin quipped as Batman finished handcuffing him. "Should have stuck with your old ones."

"**_I have no friends!_**" Two-Face roared. "I don't have any friends and I don't _need_ any! And there _is no Harvey Dent anymore! _Just Two-Face!"

"If that were true, you wouldn't have kept the coin." Batman said. "_Or _used it for decision making. I know you're still in there, Harvey. And I hope that given time and proper treatment, you can overcome this."

Two-Face scoffed. "Don't wait up, Batman."

Once the police arrived to both take Two-Face away and also cart off the many dead bodies left behind by his and Joker's rampage, the Dynamic Duo returned to the Batmobile and drove off, once more heading in the direction of the GCPD headquarters to interrogate the man involved in Selina Kyle's kidnapping. Batman knew he should probably focus on finding Joker instead, but the clown was incredibly resourceful and slippery, and was surprisingly good at disappearing when he wanted to despite his colorful appearance. He could search for the remainder of the night and all of next day and still not find him. But Selina though, she was in immediate danger. Fighting Joker and Two-Face had taken so much time he might already be too late. But if there was still even a small chance Batman could save her, he would take it. He would worry about finding Joker once he knew the more immediate problem was resolved.

_Besides, Joker is crazy, but he's not stupid. He'll know to lay low for at least a while after this. If only for as long as he needs to replenish his arsenal._

While Batman and Robin's conflict with Joker and Two-Face had been occurring, the car transporting the kidnapped Selina Kyle arrived at it's destination, namely an out-of-the-way warehouse on the docks. Exiting, the woman in red carried Selina out in her arms, and found an older man in a lab coat waiting for her.

"Ah, Dolores, I see you were successful. Well done." His eyes drifted to the unconscious Selina's face. "Mm, yes, _very _well done. She'll do magnificently."

"I've upheld my end of the bargain." Dolores said defensively. "Will you let me go now? I did what you asked. And...now that you have her, you don't need me anymore..."

"Oh, no, Miss Winters. You will be staying for a little longer. I'll need _someone_ to keep Miss Kyle sedated while I prepare the other parts of the procedure."

"That...that wasn't the deal..."

"_If _my arrangement is distasteful to you, then there is always the alternative of my turning you over to police and informing them of your crimes. And, of course, the _third _option."

Dolores Winters knew perfectly well what that "third option" was. She shook her head. "N-no, of course not..."

"Count yourself lucky, my dear Dolores. Were it not for Miss Kyle here, I would not be offering you a choice at all. It would be _your _body I'd be using, period."

"Let's just get it over with." Dolores said, frowning, as she did remembering when it was _she_ who had gotten the chloroform soaked cloth and been kidnapped. Her one consolation was that the man who had done it to her had been killed once his usefulness to the Ultra-Humanite had run out. Now, the old man who only answered to that grandiose moniker, had decided that she wasn't the best choice after all. This other woman was.

"Such a wonderful specimen." Ultra-Humanite noted as Dolores Winters carried Selina in and set her down on an operating table. "Yes, she really will be perfect."

"Perfect for what?" Dolores Winters asked as she bound Selina's wrists with rope in case she woke up prematurely. She never had learned just why the madman had wanted the body of a young woman for his experiment.

"My dear, I'm an old man. This body is failing me, and I need a new one. Hence why I shall perform a brain transfer and move my consciousness into Miss Kyle's exquisite form here."

Dolores fought hard to keep the bile down after hearing that. "But...but why..."

"Why not use a male's body?" Ultra-Humanite smiled cruelly. "My dear, use your head; the police will be far less likely to suspect that a woman is guilty of the kinds of crimes I intend to commit. Think of it as hiding in plain sight. Besides, I've observed this particular young lady, and I know that she is far more physically capable then most men are. So both for purposes of averting suspicion and for physical power, I can do no better than Miss Kyle here."

"How do you know so much about her?" Dolores asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Why, the same way I found out about _you, _Miss Winters. I have..._contacts_, and spies. Eyes and ears. And I happen to know, that Miss Kyle here, is Catwoman."

"The thief in the cat costume? Ah. Well that _would _explain it, I suppose."

"Gotta say, she's a sweet item you picked up, boss." One of Ultra-Humanite's men noted as he went closer to her. He put a coarse hand to her face and stroked it. "Shame you're gonna scoop her brain out."

"Yeah. I'd have liked to have some fun with her first." Another noted. His hands began to drift casually to the area between Selina's legs. Unfortunately for him, Selina began to stir at that moment.

"Get the chloroform!" Ultra-Humanite shouted, but it was too late. Alerted to the fact that someone was trying to violate her, Selina shot out with her legs and nailed the one thug in the stomach. He wheezed and fell over. Standing up off the operating table, Selina stared down all of them impartially.

"No shooting!" Ultra-Humanite screamed. "I repeat, **_no _**shooting! I need her body intact! Subdue her!"

Selina smiled. That made things easier. Ultra-Humanite's thugs moved in, but Selina staggered the first one with a headbutt. A follow-up kick that tore her dress brought him down. Selina felt like sighing in the face of her ruined dress but figured it was a small price to pay. She downed another of Ultra-Humanite's men with a well-aimed kick between the legs, and then leaped backwards into the air, driving both of her feet (which were still wearing high heels), into the head of the last thug.

"Argh! Incompetents! All of you!"

"Don't blame them." Selina said with a challenging smile. "Hard to find thugs who can take _me _on."

"Yes, I suppose you're right about that." Ultra-Humanite conceded. "That _is _part of why I chose you specifically, after all..._Catwoman._"

Selina's eyes widened in shock at this, which is what Ultra-Humanite had been hoping for. Dolores Winters came up from behind with a chloroform-drenched rag. But this time though, Selina was not weakened by a nerve toxin dart. When Dolores tried to drug her again, Selina stomped her foot down on Dolores' and then slammed the back of her head into her face. Dolores cried out and fell backwards, clutching her nose.

"No...no! My nose...you've marred me!"

By now though, a few more of Ultra-Humanite's men had rushed in, these ones toting Thompson Submachine Guns.

"_I said don't shoot!_" Humanite roared, but his men were too scared and trigger-happy to listen. Luckily for Selina though, it was at that moment that the Batmobile smashed through the warehouse, distracting the gunmen and causing their panicked shots to wildly miss their mark. And when the men regained their bearings, it was the batmobile they focused fire on, said gunfire having no effect. The Batmobile's top opened, and out came Batman and Robin with batarangs, wingdings, and smoke bombs to spare.

"Damn! More complications!" Ultra-Humanité groaned. Deciding it would be in his best interests to run, he did so, using the chaos of the battle as a distraction to bolt. However, Robin saw this and with a well-aimed bola, caught his legs and brought him down.

"Ha! Worked that time!"

Batman meanwhile, was diving into the disoriented and now mostly disarmed men. He took them down swiftly before turning his attentions to Selina. Going over to her, he used a batarang to cut her bindings.

"Thanks, handsome. Now I can _really _get to work."

The last of Ultra-Humanite's men came rushing in, but between Batman, Robin, and Selina Kyle, they didn't last long at all, the very last one falling to a roundhouse kick that Selina delivered to his jaw.

"Gee whiz, that lady can fight. Hey, boss, you don't think...?"

"Yes, I do. In fact, I know. _You're _Catwoman, Miss Kyle."

Selina turned around to face him and frowned. "Prove it."

"Not too many women can fight like you can. And you match Catwoman in build, hair length, style, and color, eye color...everything."

"She _is _Catwoman!" Ultra-Humanite said, struggling in vain to free himself from Robin's bola. "It's why I chose her! What better body to use as a new vessel than her's!?"

"_That's _what you wanted me for?" Selina asked with disgust. She advanced threateningly but Batman restrained her. "Don't. He's beaten. The rest is up to the courts."

"Don't give me that! He's a madman, and the law in this city is a joke. Over half the cops are dirty and they still haven't caught that Joker monster yet. What good is the law here!?"

"Is that why you break it as Catwoman?" Batman asked calmly.

"Maybe it is." Selina returned darkly. "Maybe I chose to try and take back some of what has been stolen from Gotham's working people for years. Maybe I decided that the poor and the starving need the money made from valuable, shiny things more than pompous, rich asses living in their ivory towers."

"Ah, so it's Robin Hood then."

"Don't patronize me." Selina said with a frown. "Besides, you break the law too."

"So I do." Batman conceded. He considered it. He hadn't known before now that Selina as Catwoman had been operating as a modern Robin Hood all along. Not that he actually had any proof beyond her word. But for now, that was enough. And it did change somewhat the nature of their relationship. A criminal out for their own, he would oppose. But opposing someone committing crimes for a greater good in a corrupt city, well...that would seem just a trifle more hypocritical coming from him.

"I'll tell them! I'll tell them everything!" Ultra-Humanite shouted. "Your cat burglar career is finished, Miss Kyle! You'll be in jail for _decades_ with all you've stolen!"

"Except, you're not _going _to tell them who Selina Kyle is, Humanite." Batman said darkly. "You're going to say that you kidnapped her as a random choice and say nothing whatever about Catwoman. All of your men, were defeated by Robin and myself. And only us."

"And why would I agree to th-"

"Look at me very closely." Batman said, kneeling in front of Ultra-Humanite and staring him down with the most withering glare he had in him. "Do you _really _want to know what will happen if you test me?"

One blubbering vow of silence from the thoroughly cowed Ultra Humanite later, and Selina was in the Batmobile alongside Batman and Robin as it drove back to the Batcave. Selina was blindfolded for the trip, but once they were inside the cave, the blindfold was removed.

"Nice place." Selina said sarcastically as she looked around, focusing on the massive penny in particular. "It _really _suits you."

"This is the Batcave. It is my home. My _real _home. And it's where you're going to be working from for the foreseeable future."

"What?"

"You told me that you believed in stealing for those who needed money more than the rich and the corrupt. Well, there are _other_ ways to fight injustice and crime in this city."

"What, you mean _your _way?" Selina asked. She tried to put a sneer in her tone, but it didn't register. She _was _attracted to this man after all, however much he was irritating her right now.

"Yes, actually I do. Selina, criminals in this city do not, and will not, stop for anything. Not even the war. The events of tonight should have made that very clear. And The Joker is, as you yourself said, still at large. So is the Scarecrow. There needs to be someone here who will fight that fight alongside Robin while I'm off overseas."

Now _this _caught Catwoman's attention. "You're going overseas?"

Batman nodded. "Yes. I...announced it, earlier tonight."

Selina's eyes widened as she made the connection immediately. "No...no, it can't be..."

"It is, Selina." Batman's hands went up for his cowl, and he removed it. "I won't betray your secret, and I'm trusting you not to betray mine." He let the cowl and cape fall to the floor.

"It...it _is _you, huh? Bruce Wayne. _The _Bruce Wayne is Batman."

"You sound disappointed."

"No, not disappointed. Just...surprised, that's all." She smiled softly. "You're not what I was expecting under the cowl." She closed the distance between them and put her gloved arms around his neck. "Not that I'm complaining though." Their faces were inches apart now. Bruce smiled. "Oh, and one more thing..."

"Yes?"

He kissed her deeply. "You were right. I _am _interested."

_Elsewhere_

"Many thanks, my friend, for liberating me from police custody. Prison is no place for a man like myself, I assure you."

"Of course it's not." Came the voice of the other man. The man who was Ultra-Humanite's savior, benefactor, and the one who had told him everything he knew about Selina Kyle. Currently, they were in one of his places, but he had many more spread throughout Gotham City. A consequence of his wealth and connections.

"Your 'place' is working for me. And you will continue to do so. You and the..._others_, I have slowly but surely been recruiting to my cause. And I suspect there will be more in the years to come."

"Even if the Nazis win the war?"

"They're not going to win the war. They have too many powers working against them, including myself. Trust me when I say that I will do _everything _in my considerable power to make sure the Nazis die horribly. _Everything. _Theirs is a pestilence on this world, and even many in our line of work know it. I may despise the Batman, but I despise Hitler and his ilk even more. Besides, my own plans can't continue in a Nazi-run hellhole."

"True, true." Ultra-Humanite agreed with a vigorous nod. "But...the loss of a new body for me..."

"Rest assured, you will get your replacement body, never fear. An entirely new person of your choosing. Not Dolores Winters though. After that fiasco at the docks, she's too in the public eye and associated with you to be viable."

"But, I was hoping for..."

"...hoping for Miss Kyle, yes I know. But I'm afraid you had your chance with her. Now, she and the Batman are aligned. And I don't want you revealing her identity to the world."

"Why not?"

"Because the Batman cares about her. I'm convinced of it. And that means I want him to enjoy some genuine happiness with her...before I take her from him myself."

That didn't make much sense to Ultra-Humanite, but then he never did really go in for elaborate revenge schemes, especially not psychological ones. At any rate, he knew better than to say anything to the man before him.

"If you say so. I suppose I will have to keep looking for an ideal candidate..."

"Have no fear, doctor..." The man stepped out of his chair and turned around so that Ultra-Humanite could see him in full. He wore a costume similar to Batman's but with clawed gauntlets lined with feathers, a feathered cape, and a mask made to resemble an owl.

"...Owlman always looks after those in his nest."

**Author's Notes: Selina Kyle's physical resemblance to Hedy Lamarr is based off the fact that that actress was actually an inspiration for the Catwoman character. Anne Hathaway even said she based her Catwoman performance off of Lamarr. As for her outfit, that's a reference to Jenny Blake from the 1991 Rocketeer movie. Truly Jennifer Connelly at her absolute most gorgeous.**


	3. 1950s: A Game of Bat and Owl

_1957_

Selina Kyle had stolen many things in her life. Money, jewels, antiques and priceless pieces of art. She ended up losing or giving many of these back in the end, either because she saw that others needed the money more than her, because her conscience had gotten the better of her, or most commonly, because her thefts were foiled by a certain do-gooder in a bat costume.

But, every time she looked at the diamond ring on her finger, or the pearl necklace that had once belonged to the departed mother-in-law she'd never met, she was reminded of the one thing she stole that she never lost; the heart of that aforementioned do-gooder. And since that time, she had gotten something in her life she considered more valuable then any cat statue or bejeweled artifact.

"Mamma! Mamma!"

Smiling at the pleasantly familiar sound, Selina turned to see her youngest child, Helena, run up to her and hug her.

"Hello, Helena. Do you need something?"

"No, mamma, I just wanted to show you something. Look!" Opening her small hands, Helena revealed a small, shiny object. It sparkled with a yellow glint and looked an awful lot like...

"I found gold, mamma. I know you like shiny and valuable things, so I thought..."

Chuckling, Selina shook her head and patted her young daughter. "Actually, Helena, that's _fool's_ gold." Helena blinked and took on a perplexed look on her small, adorable face. "Fool's gold?"

Selina nodded. "Yes. Pyrite is what it's officially called. Where did you find it?"

"In the woods near the house."

"That's pretty far away, Helena."

"Alfred was with me."

"Well, I admire your adventurous spirit, Helena. But if you're ever going to find _real_ gold, you need to know the difference."

Helena's face brightened up in an instant. "Will you show me, mamma?"

Selina nodded. "I will, Helena. I promise. Just...not right now."

"Thanks, mamma!" Helena said before darting off, doubtless to go off on another "adventure". Selina watched her go with a smile before returning to her reading. Her attention wasn't fully in it though, as her mind wandered to thoughts of her children.

Helena Wayne was the third and youngest child Selina had with her husband of over ten years. Even at less than eight, she was naturally athletic and filled with energy to spare. She was also all kinds of adorable and extremely cute, something her youthful innocence, high-pitched voice, and extreme fondness for her mother all contributed to. Selina in turn loved and doted on Helena even more than the girl's older brothers. Simply put, the girl was the apple of Selina Wayne's eye, and by extension, Bruce's also.

Bruce...they had been together for so long, and in that time their love had not diminished in the least. But that wasn't the only thing that hadn't diminished at all in the fifteen years since she and Bruce had first learned the other's identities and committed to a romantic relationship. Bruce's..."other life" remained his life's passion, however much age and a family had given him powerful incentives to retire. But still he resisted the urge to do that. Though he was in his forties now, as she was, Bruce insisted that his body was still in good enough shape that he could keep being Batman for at least some more years. And if Selina was being perfectly honest with herself, she didn't mind occasionally getting back out there as Catwoman. She did miss that part of her life, and not being able to be Catwoman more often was the one major downside to being a middle-aged mother of three.

_But I would never give up Helena and the boys. Not even for the good old days._

Batman though, was different. Batman was a symbol for all of Gotham in a way that Catwoman never was, and she accepted that their home city needed one more than it did the other. Granted, there _was_ Alfred to look after the kids, so it was not as though she couldn't be Catwoman more often than she was, but both Bruce and Selina felt that it wouldn't be good if Helena, Bill and Bruce Jr. saw so little of both their parents. So, much as Selina had initially disliked the thought of being a domesticated housewife, she nevertheless took on the role of primary caregiver for the kids so that Bruce could have more time as Batman, and so the children could actually have a parent in their lives. Of course, Selina had _also_ more than once allowed her mind to wander towards the obvious thought. Namely, that once Bruce finally got too old to keep going and Bruce Jr. and Bill came of age...

Selina shook her head. She didn't want that life for her children. It was why she had argued against any of their kids taking on the Robin mantle and made Bruce promise to never make them a Robin; the thought of losing any of them in the line of duty was unbearable. And she'd fought enough criminals and lunatics as Catwoman to know that few if any of them would hold back against a minor.

But Selina also wasn't a fool; she knew that her and Bruce's children had likely inherited their love of adventure and also probably a passion for justice too. And of course, she and Bruce wouldn't be able to keep their alter-egos secret from their children forever. One day, their children would have to learn the whole truth about Batman and Catwoman, and once that happened, Selina strongly suspected that each of them would be instilled with an appetite for adventure and costumed heroics that would not be easily quenched or suppressed.

Selina sighed. She supposed it was never easy to be a parent, but she also doubted that most of them had her particular worries.

_Although I suppose I now know how cop's wives must feel...or mothers of children who want to be cops. __G__uess this is why Richard and Barbara have said they're going to wait a while to have kids._

Thinking of Richard Grayson and his young wife Barbara Gordon in turn made Selina think of Bruce again. He and his old partner were out today, doing who-knows-what. Rumors were that the Joker was active again, despite his apparent death some years earlier. But then, Gotham had gotten used to that by now. The Joker was, unfortunately, the one evil in Gotham that never seemed to stay dead.

_Hope Bruce and Richard are making progress..._

-X-

"Do I even need to state the cause of death this time? Or who I think the perpetrator is?"

"Assumptions are dangerous in our line of work, Robin. You should know that by now."

Robin, now approaching thirty and in a more armored costume that was more suited to his older body, shook his head. "There's nothing mysterious about this one, partner. This is _Joker_, plain and simple."

"_Or _a copycat." Batman pointed out. "He's been inspiring other demented men and women into their own acts of violence for years now."

"Yeah, but most of those copycats just resort to standard guns and knives. These people were killed by Joker's sick laughing gas poison."

Batman nodded, and surveyed the scene one last time. "Time of death is hard to determine. But Joker, _or _a copycat, will be long gone by now either way."

"Meaning we won't know where he is until he kills someone else?" Robin asked with disgust.

"Not necessarily. I have the entire chemical composition of Joker's poison recorded by this point. And ever since Ace Chemicals got demolished and most other places discontinued several of the ingredients in the poison, there are only a few places where they can be acquired. And only a few places that are in close proximity to those locations. We'll start looking there."

"You'd think _no one_ would sell these ingredients at this point. Period."

"Some individual components are harmless enough on their own, and have their practical uses. Besides, I never said a person could get those ingredients legally."

"Touche."

No other words were exchanged between the two long-time partners as they got into the latest model of Batmobile; a long, sleek midnight blue car with a single bat wing fin on the back, a bat head hood ornament on the front, and a dome shaped window canopy. It had first seen action three years ago, and had yet to be replaced. And as was the long established pattern at this point, it went faster than any ordinary car of its era, and soon the dynamic duo were well on their way to each of the locations in turn.

As was always the case whenever they were dealing with Gotham's single most notorious criminal, Batman was taciturn and strictly business. He had learned long ago to never underestimate the Clown Prince of Crime, and had seen so many terrible acts committed by him that his ever-present drive as a crimefighter reached its zenith. Even Robin, who had long been the more light-hearted of the two, shared in this sentiment. The fact was, the Joker was, despite whatever he thought of himself, no laughing matter.

Privately, both men hoped that Batman's suggestion that it was a copycat was correct. That wouldn't be _that _much better, but it was still better than dealing with _the _Joker again. Anything was. Except for maybe the war, which was an old pain and series of ghosts that Batman had done his best to put behind him, and something that neither he nor any in his family (Robin included), ever talked about. Looking at Batman now as they drove on and investigated each location in turn in solemn silence, Robin could still sense that those scars hadn't faded, and he was reminded again of how what Bruce had told him fifteen years ago was true; war was not something to look forward to, even if the other guy deserved a bullet as badly as the Nazis had. Robin had been lucky enough to be too young to go, but he'd seen photos and heard stories. Enough so that, when the Korean War started up just a few years after World War II's end, he was very grateful to be off in College at the time. Especially when, in _that_ war, the justness of it was more in question.

But now that World War II was long over, Bruce had been able to go back to doing what he did best, which was protecting the people of his native Gotham City on his own terms without guns, without killing, and without the many terrible things he'd seen overseas. He hadn't ever admitted it to Robin outright, but Bruce was actually happy to be Batman and on the streets of Gotham again. Even characters like Scarecrow, Riddler, and Penguin looked innocent by comparison.

Batman had been right about the ingredients and there being only a few places that were in close proximity to the separate locations. Of those, the most likely candidates were a condemned building about three stories tall, an abandoned candy store, and a brewery.

"The candy store seems like his style."

"Yes, but a brewery has machinery that would make making poisons and toxins easier. And Joker's no fool; he knows that the candy store is the obvious choice."

"Meaning we should check the _less _obvious choice...unless he counted on us to think that and it really _is _in the candy store? Agh, fighting Joker's always a headache. Why can't he ever stay locked up?"

"Why indeed." Batman agreed before getting out of the Batmobile. "You check the condemned building, I'll check the brewery. We'll save the candy store for last. Be prepared to move if Joker has the building rigged to collapse."

"Which, knowing Joker, he definitely will." Robin noted with a sigh and not a little disgust. "Alright, but if he _is _there, I get to put the cuffs on him this time."

"It makes no difference." Batman said before heading off in the direction of the brewery. Using a grapple-hook gun to swiftly make his way up, Batman peered into the scene below. Sure enough, he did indeed see scores of men in the Joker's trademark color scheme and clown facepaint hurriedly pouring more of the materials for Joker's poison into the brewery machines. Said machines had also clearly been altered, so as to be better suited to making poison rather than beer. Many of the men wore gas masks, doubtless because they were at as much risk as Joker's intended victims if they weren't careful. The size of the operation told Batman that Joker was planning a mass poisoning, and that in turn told him he needed to act. But, he reasoned that he should alert Robin to their presence and then they could strike together. Joker's men didn't know he was there yet, so while there was some rush, he could afford to go back to get Robin.

So it was that Batman made his way back down and darted off in the direction of the condemned building Robin had gone into. He didn't make it.

A deafening explosion tore through the air, blowing out the windows of the candy store and completely destroying the entire dilapidated building. Bits of flaming rubble, broken glass, and shrapnel went every which way, and had Batman not been wearing the armored batsuit that had long since replaced his original unarmored costume, he'd have surely been killed or grievously injured. As it was, his batsuit barely weathered both the blast and everything that went with it. He was also sent through the air, hitting the ground hard. Looking out, Batman saw to his horror the condemned building implode, as predicted. Joker had rigged both with explosives, and if Robin hadn't gotten clear in time...

"Figured you would be on to me, Batsy. So I took precautions."

Turning to the source of that hated voice, Batman beheld it. It was indeed the original Joker, without question. His "style" had changed little in the nearly twenty years Batman had known him; still the same purple tuxedo jacket, leather gloves, shoes, and pin-stripe pants. Still the same yellow-orange waistcoat and green tuxedo shirt. And still the same hideous, sadistic smile and visage.

"How I do wish you or bird-brain had gone to the candy store..." Joker said with faux-wistfulness. "But no matter. The hands-on approach works just as well!"

Drawing from his purple trenchcoat a large purple and white hammer with a clown face on both ends of the head, Joker made his way to where Batman was. Batman saw what was coming next, but he was still too injured to move in time. The hammer swing came with a surprising amount of force, and Batman had the wind knocked out of him for the second time in rapid succession. Joker still had a lot of strength in him for a man who was now middle-aged.

Another hammer strike came. Batman tasted blood in his mouth.

"Big old Bats is falling down...falling down...falling down..." Joker said in a mock sing-song voice as he continued to deliver strikes from his hammer. "...big old Bats has fallen down, I'm _so happy!_"

Joker raised his hammer for another strike, but before it could be brought down again, a projectile zipped through the air, spinning with such power that it severed the hammer in two.

"No fair!" Joker protested. "That was my thirty-second favorite hammer! _And _my forty-fifth favorite weapon! Travesty!"

Closing the distance rapidly, Robin delivered a green-gloved fist to Joker's face, hitting him hard enough to knock him back.

"Just ten explosives, Joker? And here I thought you'd learned to stop underestimating us."

Joker, surprisingly, said nothing in response, instead pulling another weapon out of his coat, this one what looked like a gun of some kind. But it was not ordinary bullets that it fired (Joker was too smart to think that would work against Robin and Batman), but instead a canister of poison gas. Robin got clear in time, and so did Batman now that he had a chance to recover from Joker's attacks. Nevertheless, the thick cloud of sickly green gas served to create a barrier between Joker and his two adversaries.

"Now, now. Don't get _too _close. That particular batch of Joker venom is especially potent. Made with _extra_ care from Nanny Joker's old recipe."

"I saw what was in the brewery, Joker." Batman said as he got back to his feet. "I expected more than just a large-scale poisoning of Gotham. You're getting predictable."

Joker shook his head. "Oh, that? That was _bait_, Batsy. Of course, now that you mention it poisoning Gotham _does _sound like a jolly idea. But no, that's not my real plan at all. This was all to keep you busy. Well, that and lure you into a trap and kill you, but you know what they say about the best laid plans." Joker chuckled and by now, several of his henchmen had run outside to join him, all of them having their guns trained on Batman and Robin.

"You know, Bats I really am curious to see just how many bullets it takes to get through that pesky suit of yours. Now seems like a perfect time to find out, don't you think?"

"You'd let someone other than yourself kill me?" Batman asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Hm...you have a point. I _hate _it when you have a point!" Taking out a grenade, Joker hurled it in Batman and Robin's direction. With a well-aimed (and well-timed), batarang, Batman intercepted the grenade. The explosion forced Joker and his men to fall back, and also gave Batman and Robin time to retreat to the Batmobile. No sooner were they back inside did they just drive the vehicle through the cloud of poisonous Joker gas and into the crowd of criminals on the other side. Joker and his men all dove out of the way, but the Batmobile swerved around, and Batman leaped out of the canopy to tackle Joker. Some of his men tried to intervene on his behalf but Robin was already all over them, using his by now well-honed martial arts skills to dispose of them with no problem.

"What are you _really _planning, Joker?" Batman demanded.

"Oh come now, Batsy you don't really expect me to give up the game just like that, do you? Where's the fun in that?"

Batman wasn't surprised. He knew at this point that it was useless to try and get anything out of the Joker, but certain instincts and habits were hard to suppress, especially at his age. Lives were on the line, and he didn't know which ones or how to stop it. And he knew that Joker knew that and reveled in it. That in turn just made Batman want to hurt him more, but he knew that was useless too. Joker enjoyed pain and violence, even when it was towards himself.

"Oh, don't fret, sourpuss. You'll find out soon enough. In the meantime..."

Batman saw the acid squirt from Joker's flower coming in time to block it with his gauntlet. He had seen Joker use it to burn off a man's face before, and had always made sure to not be similarly taken by surprise. Unfortunately, the acid _did _eat through his gauntlet, and he had to both remove it and release Joker, which was exactly what the clown had been counting on.

"HA! The classic gags really are the best!" Joker noted with his usual manic glee before darting off. "Keep them busy, boys!" He shouted as he continued to run. "Ten cents raise to the paycheck of whoever kills bird-brain!"

Joker's men heeded his orders, but Batman and Robin made short work of them. Sadly, it was enough time for Joker to hop into his own car and drive off. Batman and Robin returned to the Batmobile to give chase, and it was a good thing they did. For it was then that the brewery too suffered the same fate as the candy store and condemned building. It's explosive destruction released more Joker Venom laughing gas into the air, a thick, hideous green cloud that rose higher than many buildings and seeped across the area in an ominous spread.

"Damn!" Batman cursed, as the green fog obscured everything outside the Batmobile's dome and made it impossible to see.

"Please tell me this car is safe from all of that." Robin said.

"Of course. The Batmobile canopy is sealed shut in case of something like this. But now Joker's covered his escape and this whole area is contaminated."

"Let his own men breath it in too." Robin noted with disgust, though not surprise. He and Batman were used to such acts of treachery from the Joker. Why anyone still followed him or listened to him was hard for either hero to fathom. But then perhaps those men had known all along they might be sacrificed and accepted it, devoted as they were to helping Joker spread the chaos and misery he lived to bring to the world. In some ways, that was an even more disturbing thought.

"We can't do anything for them now. Now we need to concentrate on finding Joker, figuring out what his real plan is, and stop him before anyone else gets hurt."

"So, the usual basically?" Robin asked.

"Pretty much." Batman admitted with a nod.

And then the Batmobile drove off, leaving the cloud of poison gas behind.

-X-

"You were noisy, as always."

Joker feigned offense. "My brilliance _demands _to be seen and heard. _Bombastic_, my good fellow. _Not _subtle. But then, I'm sure _you _would know about that. I mean what with the bird outfit and all."

Owlman turned around to face Joker. "Careful. The last man who made fun of my costume met with a bad accident."

Joker's trademark smile grew wider. "Terrible thing, accidents. Common cause of death, you know." Joker chuckled at his own remark.

"Does Batman suspect the true plan?"

Joker shrugged and giggled.

"_Well_?" Owlman pressed.

"Oh, why so serious? Batsy will fumble around like he's as blind as...well, you know. He doesn't know that you're involved or what the real plan is."

"For your sake you had better be right." Owlman said, shaking his head. "He's not called the World's Greatest Detective for nothing. No one underestimates Batman's mind and is the better for it...something I'm sure _you _know all too well."

"Pah. _Me, _underestimate _him? _Never! Everyone knows that Batsy and I are the perfect counters to one another. The _ultimate adversaries_. Like baldy and Stupidman over in Metropolis. Or the swimsuit model and the one who needs a litterbox. Point is, I always get the most fun out of our little games."

"This despite the fact that he's outwitted and bested you time and again."

Joker frowned, but quickly brushed it off. "If you hate Batsy so much, why all the stalling and subterfuge? Why not just do what your animal does to his and get it over with?"

"You said it yourself, Joker; _games_. That's what your fights with Batman are to you. Well, I for one believe in playing a _long _game. A very, _very _long game. I've already been at it for years, and I will likely be at it for many _more_ years. Now is a critical moment, but there will be others. My conflict with Batman is no simple exchange of fists. No, it is so much more than that. Besides, thoughtless or ill-planned direct attacks on Batman don't work. You need only look at the track records of everyone from Two-Face to Scarecrow to Penguin to know that."

"_Or _the clay monster." Joker noted with a chuckle.

"Karlo is a mindless brute, yes. But he does have his uses. All of the psychotics and monsters in this city do, with the proper motivation and manipulation." Owlman looked at Joker: "Go, clown. Begin the next phase of the plan."

-X-

"So...what's so fascinating, lover?" Selina asked as she walked up behind her husband and wrapped her arms around him.

"Joker's leading me along. And if I don't find out what he's planning in time..."

"You will. World's Greatest Detective, remember?"

"I wasn't the first person to have that mantle." Batman noted as he continued to pore over what evidence he had managed to collect. "I learned everything I know from the original."

"He'd be proud of you." Selina assured him, and followed it up with a kiss on the cheek.

"It has to be something big." Batman reasoned. "Joker's a madman, but even he wouldn't likely expend so much time and resources on a false trail unless it was to cover up a scheme just as large or larger. So this isn't about a simple robbery or killing. It's something bigger."

The answer hit Batman all at once, and he cursed himself for not having thought it sooner. "This isn't Joker's plan."

"Come again?"

"Joker's involved, but this isn't his plan. Joker is content to cause chaos and death. If there's something else, something more subtle at play, then I doubt he's the one who came up with it." Batman considered. The Riddler was the obvious choice, being as scheming and convoluted plots were generally his thing. However, at the same time, there was no riddle. That in turn made Batman immediately rule him out. Riddles were more than just a signature for Edward Nashton, AKA Edward Nygma; they were a compulsion and an addiction. He could not just decide to _not_ leave them at his crimes.

Penguin had the resources perhaps, but no real motive. Profit was his aim, plain and simple. There didn't seem to be any money to be made off what was happening. Still, a more likely candidate then Riddler.

Of course even if Batman figured out who was pulling the strings, he was still no closer to figuring out what the true goal was. He wondered...he thought back to the crime scenes, to his and Robin's battle with Joker and his men. As he pored over the memories, he began to realize a few things; several of Joker's men wore attire consistent with pier and dock workers. Joker's getaway car had not been his standard Jokermobile (the last model of which had been destroyed years ago), but a more common car, one usually used by navy men going back to ship or coming in to town on shore leave. Moreover, even though Batman had been unable to track Joker due to the cloud of Joker venom, there _was _a pier or docks in two different directions not that far from where the brewery had been. Either or both of those locations could give him something to work with. If nothing else, he might find Joker.

"I'm going to the north docks. There may be evidence there."

"I'll come with you. Alfred can look after the kids and I think you could use me on this one."

"I can handle it, Selina."

"Maybe. But I'm coming anyway."

"So be it." Batman said simply as he got up. Years of marriage had taught him the folly of trying to argue with his wife when she set her mind to something. And he also knew better than to come between her and a chance to bust out the claws and bullwhip again.

The drive to the docks went by swiftly enough, though not so swiftly that Batman and Catwoman didn't notice various Anti-Communist propaganda filling Gotham's streets, a sight Batman had also noticed during his drives with Robin. He shook his head at the sight.

"Hasn't everyone had enough of war?" Catwoman asked with disgust.

"They think the Communists are the next Third Reich. They're reacting accordingly."

"Well, I don't like the Commies either. But I'm not sure how Hollywood directors and local eccentrics are Communist spies."

"They're not. But people are afraid. And people do stupid things when they're afraid."

"Including criminals." Catwoman noted with a smirk. "_You've_ certainly proven that enough times."

Batman nodded, but the truth was, he was only half-listening to her. As was so often the case, his mind was feverishly at work trying to crack his latest case. There were already too many dead people courtesy of Joker. He needed to get answers, and quickly.

The first dock proved a dead-end, with there being nothing there in the way of clues. The second one, however, had several footprints in it. They had residue consistent with some of the chemicals and other gimmicks used by The Joker and his men. That proved it all.

"They were definitely here." Batman said, getting up after looking at the last of the footprints.

"Do we have any idea where they might have gone?"

"Yes. I found something else." Holding up a plastic bag containing a piece of evidence, Batman elaborated: "This was not left behind by accident, it was planted. It has nothing to do with Joker's style, suggesting it was planted by whoever is working with him."

"As if he knew you would come here eventually." Catwoman realized. "So he left a clue behind."

"That was his mistake. He may know my methods, but he's still arrogant enough to think he can beat me even when he deliberately leaves me clues. He should have paid attention to all my victories over the Riddler."

"Maybe it _is _Riddler?"

"No, it would have been a riddle if that were the case. Not a flower."

"Don't think I've ever seen that one before. But then, I never was in to gardening or plants."

"This is _Castilleja exserta_. Also known as Purple Owl's Clover, Escobita, and Exserted Indian paintbrush."

"So...our mystery villain has a thing for flowers?"

"No, I don't think so. Consider those names. One mentions the word "Indian", and the other mentions both a color and an animal."

"Purple Owl." Catwoman said with a nod.

"And who do we know who dresses in purple?"

"Joker." Catwoman's eyes widened as she too connected the dots. "And there's a large section of the city that used to belong to an Indian tribe."

"Yes. It's land that the remnants of the tribe are attempting to get back. They've been lobbying for years with no success."

"Do you think this means we'll find Joker there?"

"Possibly. But remember, the other name is the Purple _Owl's _Clover. I think we just figured out who Joker's partner is."

Catwoman smiled. "An _Owl_, huh? And after we already have Penguin. What's next? A villain in pink called Flamingo?"

"You never know with this city." Batman replied, shaking his head as he did. "Come on. We need to get to the old grove."

"The Old Grove" was the term given to the land in question that had once belonged to a small, deeply spiritual tribe exclusive to Gotham. Their small numbers might have made them seemed doomed to being snuffed out come European colonization, but somehow, the tribe had survived the centuries relatively intact where so many other, larger tribes were devastated. But they could not entirely escape the fate that befell all Native Americans everywhere, and land that had once been the site of many religious ceremonies and other sacred affairs, had become claimed by those who built Gotham City. As a park at first, but then more buildings came to be constructed there. Now, The Old Grove was more of a public attraction. A piece of history one could go to to learn just a bit about Gotham City's early years.

The Batmobile came to a stop in front of the Old Grove, and Batman and Catwoman exited. Sure enough, they saw men hard at work spilling an unknown but clearly corrosive substance over the land. That was enough to get the two heroes into action, and between the two veteran hand-to-hand fighters all of the men were either out cold or running in moments.

"You're too late, I'm afraid. The damage has already been done."

Looking up, Batman and Catwoman saw a figure standing atop one of the branches of one of the grove's largest trees. He was dressed in body armor very similar to Batman's own (complete with a scalloped cape and utility belt), but with a somewhat different color scheme as well as a cowl that was modeled after a bird rather than a bat, and so had no pointy ears. A stylized bird logo was on the armored chest instead of a bat symbol, and his gauntlets were clawed instead of scalloped.

"Hello, Batman. I've been looking forward to this meeting for a long time."

"Yeah, I can tell from your costume that you're a fan." Catwoman said sarcastically, getting back into a fighting stance as she did. "But you should know Batman already has a bird-themed partner."

The other man chuckled and shook his head. "You mistake me, Catwoman. I am no admirer of your husband, nor do I desire to be his partner. I am _Owlman. _Think of me as the perfect counter to your dear Dark Knight." He turned to face Batman. "You did well figuring out the clue I left you. Police could have looked at it for over a year and they still wouldn't figure it out."

"Not all of us are experts in flowers." Catwoman retorted. Owlman ignored her and continued: "Of course, you didn't figure it out fast enough, did you? Joker and his men have served their purpose here. This land is ruined. Wasted. No one will want it now."

"The tribe that once owned this land will happily re-settle in their old home if no one else wants or can make use of it."

"Ah, yes, _that. _I'm afraid that, when I'm done, even _they_ won't have any use for it..." In a blur-like motion, Owlman drew something from his utility belt and hurled it to the ground. When it impacted, whole swaths of the field lit up in an instant. Lines of fire cut mercilessly through the ground and then spread without resistance.

"Everything burns, as my associate is fond of saying." Owlman said with a smile. In another blur-like motion, he sent a flurry of projectiles that Batman and Catwoman rolled to dodge. The projectiles, which bore more than a passing resemblance to Batman's own batarangs and Robin's wing-dings, embedded themselves in the ground. Leaping into the air cape outstretched, Owlman landed dramatically to the ground before darting at Batman and Catwoman. The two dark knights engaged one another, and it didn't take long at all for Batman to see just how skilled his opposite number really was. Every style of martial arts Batman employed Owlman recognized and countered with such perfection that it was clear that he knew these fighting styles same as Batman did. Catwoman tried to intervene to reinforce her husband, but by now the fires were spreading so fast and getting so bad that Catwoman was cut off from Batman and Owlman.

_He planned it that way. I can tell. _Owlman wasn't just a worthy foe in martial arts, but he also obviously had brains to go with his brawn, just as Batman himself did. Clearly, for all his expressed hostility to him, Owlman was still going out of his way to imitate Batman in everything; in costume, in martial arts skills, in intelligence and tactics...everything.

_Everything, except what counts most._

"Batman, the fires are closing in! We need to get out of here!"

"Indeed you do." Owlman said, ducking under another kick from Batman as he did. "It would be most inconsiderate of you, and _most_ frustrating to me, if you would let this fire kill you before I do." Backflipping to avoid more of Batman's blows, Owlman fired a grapple at the branch of a tree that was still standing. He zipped to it before then gliding off it and soaring over the flames. "Until next time, Batman. The game still has a ways to go yet!"

"How is he not on fire?" Catwoman wondered. "The flames licked his cape..."

"It must be made of the same fire-proof material mine is."

"And how exactly are _we _going to get out of here? All of the trees are on fire now..."

"We hope the remote I had put into the Batmobile works." Batman replied as he took out the controller and began inputting commands. Sure enough, the parked Batmobile received the signal and drove over on it's own to the two trapped heroes. So durable was the Batmobile that it powered through the flames. Opening the dome, Batman had Catwoman get in first before following behind her. As the dome closed, Catwoman and Batman each allowed themselves to take in several deep breaths of clean air.

"That was way too close." Catwoman said in-between deep breaths. "The smoke would have probably gotten us before the flames did."

"We're not out of it yet." Batman said, before driving the Batmobile through the inferno. Once again, the car's armor held, but distressingly, the fires did not dissipate.

"Quite the image we must be cutting." Catwoman noted in a deadpan as the batmobile continued to drive through the streets of Gotham, leaving a burning trail all the while.

"It's probably napalm." Batman said, shaking his head in disgust. "We need to abandon this vehicle the moment we get back to the manor."

The Batcave's vast collection of resources did eventually yield a means by which the napalm fires on the Batmobile could be put out. By the time they were though, good parts of the car's hull were scorched almost all the way through, and the entire Batmobile looked not unlike it had been scheduled for smelting before someone changed their mind halfway through.

"I think it may be time to get another Batmobile." Catwoman said, shaking her head.

"I'm more concerned with what's happened in the Old Grove." Batman replied. "Gotham's local Indian tribe won't be happy about this at all. And now we have yet another supervillain in our city. One who knows my methods and uses them himself. All to further his criminal goals."

"Specifically, beating you, from the looks of it."

"Agreed. However, I can't help but feel like there is more to this than just that. Some other, more personal motive behind Owlman's actions."

"You must have done something _really _bad to this guy. But what?"

"If I knew that, I might know who it is under the cowl..."

-X-

Owlman returned to his hideout, "The Aviary" as named by him, and contemplated what had just transpired. Batman now knew he had an enemy, but hopefully would not figure out who was behind the mask until Owlman was good and ready to reveal it to Batman on his own accord. Of course, knowing Batman that was probably hoping for too much. But regardless, everything was going according to plan as of now. The plan he had had in motion for so very long was continuing apace, and what he'd had Joker's men do today was a major step towards completing that plan. Now that the Old Grove had been burned, cauterized, and rendered dead, worthless land, Owlman could, in his civilian identity, purchase it for a trivial sum. After that, he would set about "healing it". When he succeeded, he would sell it back to the tribe that had once owned it, and they would be indebted to him. And, the Old Grove would be rebuilt in his own image, on his own terms.

Such was how all of Gotham City would go, eventually.

_This is not your city, Batman. It's **mine. **I will make it my own. You'll see. I'll make sure of that._

As Owlman had told Batman during their battle, it would not do to have him die by any hand other than his own. This was why he had been working from the shadows to _help_ Batman during the war and after, though Batman didn't know it so far as Owlman could tell. Close calls that could have easily gone the other way were influenced by Owlman and the others in his cabal, so as to ensure that Batman would live. Their final day of reckoning had not yet come.

_As for the Old Grove, I already have someone in mind for leading the restoration efforts. She's young, but she already shows promise. And she's a genius with plants and all other things nature and agriculture related. Yes, I think Doctor Pamella Isley will do just fine for what I have in mind..._


	4. 1960s: The Jungle

_1966_

_America, Gotham City_

"Alright, troops. We've tracked Riddler to this depository. His ruse with the Mole Hill gang is over."

"About time." Grumbled one of the four young heroes who were following Robin's lead. The teen hero in question was dressed in scarlet red and bright yellow, with a lightning bolt symbol on his chest like that of his mentor's and a mask that left his orange hair exposed. He had a freckled face and youthful vigor to spare, but he was also impatient. Perhaps only fitting, given his particular power-set. "I hate solving his riddles."

"For a guy who moves so fast, you sure are a slow thinker sometimes, Wally." Replied the lone female of the team, who _looked _like a beautiful teenage girl but was actually, much like her mentor and the woman she looked so much like in ways that went beyond just the costume, older than she seemed. She flashed a teasing smile to go with the tone in her words.

"That's enough, both of you." Scolded Robin lightly. Robin was their mentor, team founder, awesome big brother, and surrogate father all rolled into one. He was in his late thirties now and still going strong as a superhero. And also, as it was often said, still very handsome and a favorite with the ladies, who daily lamented that he was still happily married to one Barbara Gordon. But that was a separate issue.

"We may have found him, but don't rush in. He'll be expecting that and will have traps laid out. I'm sure of it. Riddler's never been a fighter, but he compensates by planning ahead. It will be the same here, so don't underestimate him. Even _if_ you manage to corner him."

"Guy's gotta be over fifty by now." Muttered the red and yellow-clad teen archer who was the lately acquired protege of Star City's superhero, Green Arrow.

"Yeah. So is Batman." Robin noted with a smirk. "And your mentor too, if I'm not mistaken." At this, the young archer had no retort.

"So how _are _we going to play this, boss?" Asked the last of the crew, protege of Atlantis' king Orin who was known to humanity as "Aquaman".

"I'll use x-ray binoculars to scan the building to identify the traps, and how they're controlled. Once that's done, we go from there."

"I could run in and disarm any traps Riddler's got before he even knows what's happened." Kid Flash said, slamming a red gloved fist into his other hand as he did.

"Riddler knows you would think to do that. He'll definitely have the floor electrified in the event you try to run in. Fortunately, my suit is insulated like Batman's armor. If need be, I can trigger those traps first. But we need to make sure there are no other nasty surprises that the rest of you can't handle."

"You'll let yourself get electrocuted?" Wonder Girl asked.

"Of course. Taking hits for others is the job. If I have to suffer more so that you all suffer less, I'm willing to pay that price. That's how this goes." Continuing his scan, Robin announced: "There are anti-air turrets inside that depository, no doubt for shooting down Wonder Girl. Speedy, you can take those out once an entrance has been made. Wonder-Girl, you'll fly up and throw him through said entrance. Make sure to keep your distance until Speedy has shot all the turrets."

"Won't they just shoot Speedy instead of Donna?" Kid Flash asked.

"No. Speedy will shoot down the first one as he goes through the window, then land on the catwalk right below it. If he's not airborne, the guns won't target him until it's too late. Once the turrets and the electrified floor have been taken out, the place will be in disarray. _Then _you can start working your magic, KF."

"Fine, whatever. Let's just get this over with. I may be part of this team, but I'm _also _the Flash's partner. I've got Central City to help protect."

"Pretty sure Flash will already have everything wrapped up by the time we're done. That's super speed for you." Robin shook his head and smiled. "OK, does everyone understand the plan?"

One by one, the four teen heroes, Kid Flash, Wonder Girl, Speedy, and Aqualad, all nodded. Smiling in satisfaction at this, Robin gave out the order: "Alright then: Titans, **_go!_**"

_Vietnam, Somewhere along the North/South border_

There was, to Bruce Wayne's mind, only one thing about this current war that the USA was embroiled in that was actually good:

He could fight it as Batman.

As had been the case in the last few wars, there was a draft, but it was no longer 1942, and Bruce Wayne was no longer a young man. Drafts did not have 52-year olds in mind, and so there was no expectation for Bruce to serve again. Batman on the other hand, could go where he pleased, and still had fight left in him even at his advanced age.

_No one suspects old Bruce Wayne can do these things. _Batman thought as he moved before some Viet Cong could shoot him before grabbing a few Vietnamese American sympathizers out of the way, carrying them with him to safety as he kept going. Once he had set them down somewhere safe, he hurled a flurry of batarangs at the pursuing Viet Cong before diving into them after they were disarmed.

Now granted, he had not especially _wanted _to be here in Vietnam. But the fact was, people were dying, America's name was attached to it, and unlike World War II, where the villains were so blindingly obvious that even a complete fool would know it, here it was less clear just who was in the wrong and who wasn't. Either way, the opportunity to fight a war as he wished, where he could eliminate the bloodthirsty on both sides without ending any lives, was something Batman couldn't pass up. Even if his wife was furious with him for it at the moment.

Batman felt his muscles strain as he narrowly avoided a hand grenade thrown at him by one Viet Cong. He felt joints cry out in protest as he landed, and then they protested all the more loudly when he leaped into the air and landed behind the Viet Cong before rushing them. Each time he punched one, he felt the sting on his knuckles far worse than he ever had in his twenties and thirties.

_Damn. Maybe Selina was right after all. Maybe I **should **have sat this one out._

Soon though, all the Viet Cong were out. Batman didn't know if the GIs would appreciate his efforts here, but he also didn't care. He'd punched out enough of _them _over the last year and a half too. Part of why he wasn't sure who the good guys and bad guys were this time around. Near as he could tell, it seemed like both parties had villains to spare.

Batman returned to his bat-bike and began driving the custom motorcycle through the jungle terrain and then across the dusty roads. Land-mines were always a danger, but Batman used the same x-ray binoculars Robin had to scan what was directly in front of him. Not the most elegant way of checking, but it was better than nothing. A pity neither he nor his scientists had yet found a way to build x-ray vision into his cowl.

_Of course, if I had Clark, his cousin, or his daughter here, **they** could check for me. But he's decided to sit this war out entirely. At least for now._

Batman didn't think that would last forever though. Superman might not agree with the war as a whole, but he also wasn't one to just stand by and let innocents die. In fact, Batman suspected that it was only Superman's reluctance to draw the ire of the US government and military that he wasn't down in Vietnam already, using his powers to save what lives he could. Batman though, had far less concern for what the law thought of him. If it got in the way of the mission, then it deserved to be broken.

Thankfully, the drive was fairly uneventful. That was the thing about Vietnam; it wasn't actually nonstop fighting. Much of it was long, torturous marches from one place to the next, where the heat, boredom, and insects were all together so unbearable that it was a torment in it's own right. Thinking of that as he continued to drive on his bat-bike made Batman feel somewhat guilty that he had that luxury for himself that none of the servicemen had.

_None of them should be here at all. _Batman thought as he continued to drive. What was America really fighting for this time? It was one thing when they were fighting Nazism, but this? Was keeping Vietnam from becoming a Communist nation _really_ so vital to defeating the evils of the Soviets? Batman doubted it. Before this war, most Americans knew nothing about Vietnam, and even now most of them were hardly the wiser or more informed. Had the Soviets tried to launch an invasion of the states or one of their principal allies, that would be one thing. But a tiny Asian country that meant nothing to America? That was something else.

_The country's become so obsessed with defeating Communism, they've lost all sense of perspective and proportion. _Batman thought as he continued to drive. Then the sounds of screams and the incredible sight of trees seeming to sway and move caught his attention, and made him change his course.

_...and they're not the only ones._

_Gotham City_

"How did it go with Harvey Dent?" Asked Batgirl as Catman made his way back to the rooftop where she and the third member of their trio, Dark Knight, were waiting for him.

"He says he doesn't know anything about this new Two-Face, and I believe him."

"Great. So we're back to square one." Dark Knight shook his head. "Figures."

"Did Dent say anything else?" Batgirl asked.

"Yeah. He says he hasn't been Two-Face in years. Not since the plastic surgery and all the psychotherapy. He says he's in control now."

"And you actually believed that?" Dark Knight asked. "Come on. He was one of dad's worst enemies back in the day."

"_Was. _But he's just a broken shadow now. You should see how he lives. I honestly feel bad for him, even knowing everything he did."

"Well, be that as it may, it still doesn't help us with this _new _Two-Face. Can't believe this is the fourth one now."

"Well, Dent's old butler Wilkins is dead, and we know Paul Sloane is still serving out his life sentence, so it can't be either of them. Much as we may hate it, we have to accept that this really is another successor."

"Just like us I guess..." Batgirl muttered.

"Difference is we're part of a legacy _worth_ keeping alive." Catman pointed out, putting a hand on his little sister's shoulder. "Come on. With Dent a dead-end we have to keep looking for clues elsewhere."

"I wish Richard was here to help us." Batgirl said as all three children of the Bat and Cat leaped off the rooftop and began to once more swing through Gotham.

"Come on, have a little more faith, sis." Catman said. "The three of us together should be enough to take down a wannabe Two-Face. We're not kids anymore. We don't need our big foster brother to bail us out all the time."

"...I still wish Richard was with us." Batgirl muttered. Unbeknownst to all of them, a figure in black leather and steel gray body armor, watched them from afar, smiled, and disappeared.

_Vietnam_

"BATMAN! I Know you're out there! _Show yourself! **Come and face me!**_"

The source of these words, was a woman who might have seemed quite out of place in the jungles of Vietnam. She was a woman with light skin tinged green as a result of her experiments in botanical super-science gone awry. She had fiery red hair and piercing green eyes. Her lips too were green, and so were her clothes, which left little to the imagination and were in fact mostly made of leaves, flowers, and other plants. In all, she looked perhaps like what the Ancient Greeks might have imagined when they first thought of Dryads or the goddess Demeter. Only, there was one crucial difference; _this_ curvaceous beauty was no man's sexual fantasy or romantic dream. She was a nightmare.

And her name, was Poison Ivy.

"Come and face me!" She roared again. "Unless you want to see these butchers die!" As Ivy continued to rave, she used both the long, tentacle-like vines protruding from her back, and the trees and plants around her, as weapons against the hapless GIs. Walls of greenery raised from the Earth shielded her from bullets, while vines burst forth or came down from trees to ensnare men, disarm them, or strangle them as nooses around their necks. A few unlucky ones were impaled on the thorns of Poison Ivy's vine tentacles.

Several batarangs cut through the vines strangling GIs. Turning her attentions to the source, Poison Ivy briefly desisted her efforts to murder the remaining GIs, and began launching more vines in Batman's direction. Batman angled his motorcycle out of the way of some, but one managed to wrap itself around one of the wheels and force Batman off of it. As he struck the ground, he forced himself back up, grunting as he did and hoping he hadn't broken anything.

_Argh...when did this all become so hard?_

"_Batman._" Poison Ivy hissed as she began advancing, using vines embedded in the ground to both elevate herself and do all her walking for her. Yet another vine was still wrapped around part of the bat-bike and was lifting it off the ground, with more joining in to keep it raised. "_Just_ the man I wanted to see. You've been meddling in my business for too long. Interfering. Keeping me from delivering _justice_."

"What you do isn't justice, Ivy." Batman said.

"**_They're murders!_**" Poison Ivy screamed. "They burn and defile and destroy! With their bombs, and their guns, and the _napalm!_ That _vile_ creation! This is a _beautiful_ place, Batman, and they've defiled it! And for what? For their stupid war!" Green eyes narrowing, she added, more darkly: "And it's not just the beauty of this place they're destroying. They've murdered _humans_ too. _Plenty_ of them. More than I _ever_ have."

"I don't agree with this war either..."

"Then **_help _**me! Help me punish these monsters!"

"I can't. Not the way you want me to."

Batman had hoped a fight would not ensue, but in this he was sorely disappointed. With a shout of pure rage Poison Ivy hurled Batman's own bat-bike at him. Batman dove to one side, and the bike collided with a tree with enough force that Batman knew it wouldn't be functional again without repairs. He dodged several of the vine tentacles, but each one was a near-miss. He hurled some batarangs, but her vines intercepted these easily. He tried to hurl some of the pesticide bombs he had used to drive Poison Ivy away previously, but unfortunately by now she had gotten wise to his act, and wrapped one of her vines around Batman's wrist. Applying crushing pressure, she forced Batman to drop it. Fortunately for him, he'd already primed the bomb, and the explosion was enough to dissolve the one vine so that he could get away. Unfortunately, he also took a lot of it himself. While his bat cowl (which was by now a full-face covering helmet with air-filters), kept him safe from the plant-killing chemicals, some of it _did_ block his vision. Seizing on the opportunity, Poison Ivy used more of her vines to attack Batman as he was clearing his vision, and this time she ensnared all of Batman's limbs before lifting him up and pulling him towards her.

"You're getting on my nerves."

"I do have a knack for that."

"Not anymore."

More of the vines wrapped around his throat, and Poison Ivy began applying pressure. She didn't get far.

Several gunshots rang out. A few missed and hit nearby trees, but the rest found their marks in Poison Ivy's body. She gasped in pain and collapsed, her vines withering and retracting as she fell. Batman fell too as the vines around him also retracted. He hit the ground with enough force that he was grateful for his batsuit; he'd have almost certainly broken bones otherwise.

_Fall like this would have been nothing to me back in my prime. _Batman silently lamented. _With or without my suit. I didn't **need **body armor back in the early days. Before World War II..._

Poison Ivy was on the ground now, a spreading pool of green blood beneath her and more out her mouth. But before Batman could move in to try and help her and before the surviving GIs could finish her, the ground beneath Poison Ivy opened up and she vanished into it before it closed just as quickly.

"What the hell!?"

"How'd she do that!?"

"Damn witch!"

"She's let nature draw her into it." Batman reasoned. "She'll try to heal herself as best she can. Absorb the soil and nearby plant life to heal her wounds."

"She...she can do that? _How?_"

"I don't know. There's much about Poison Ivy's condition that I don't know. That _no one_ knows, except for her."

"_Shoot him!_" Another GI barked, a sergeant from the looks of him. "This freak has attacked our boys all across 'Nam. He's an enemy. Probably in league with Charlie."

"But Sergeant, Batman's attacked Cong too..."

"Then he's an enemy to both! That means he's still our enemy! _Shoot him!_ That's an..."

The Sergeant was interrupted when Batman dove at him and punched his lights out. The other men opened fire in a panic but their shots were way off the mark as a result, and many of them didn't much have their hearts in it anyway. By the time any of them had thought to aim or give chase, Batman had already disappeared into the deep of the jungle.

_Wayne Manor_

"So how are things going with the Teen Titans, Master Richard?" Alfred asked as he and Grayson continued enjoying their tea.

"Very well, Alfred. They may be teenagers, but they learn fast, and they're working well together. Riddler just found that out the hard way."

"Mm. It is a shame that Mr. Nashton is still causing trouble even into such old age. I would have thought he'd have had the good sense to retire by now."

"We should all be so lucky, Alred." Richard noted solemnly. "Selina notwithstanding, it feels like most of Bruce's old enemies _never_ give up their criminal ways. _Penguin_ sure didn't. He was in the criminal business till the day a heart attack got him. Scarecrow's still at large, and Joker..." Richard shook his head. "...I don't even want to think about running into _him_ again."

"Mr. Dent has tried to stay on the straight-and-narrow since they fixed the damage to his face and mind." Alfred pointed out. "So there is that one success in addition to Mrs. Wayne."

"You're right about that, Alfred." Came a young voice the old butler still had trouble getting used to, as he remembered (and missed), the sound of a younger, happier voice this newer one had since replaced.

Dark Knight continued: "We checked up on Dent. He doesn't know anything about this new Two-Face. He's still clean."

Hearing the skepticism in his tone, Alfred raised an eyebrow, but Catman corroborated it: "BJ's telling the truth. I talked to Dent myself."

"Well, as much as I hope that you're successful in bringing this new Two-Face to justice, I would like to remind you all that you _do _still have studies to get back to beyond your crimefighting exploits. I doubt very much that either of your parents would appreciate you falling behind in your academia."

"Already on it, Alfred." Catman said, being the first to move off. Dark Knight followed, though with less enthusiasm. Batgirl though, lingered. She went up to Richard Grayson and hugged him. "Hey, Richard. It's been a while since you've visited. We all miss you."

"I know, Helena. But I have my own responsibilities too."

Knowing what he meant by that, Batgirl asked: "Can I join your Teen Titans? I mean, I _am _sixteen."

"I don't think your mother would love that. Besides, you and your brothers do good work here in Gotham." Helena's face fell, and Richard hastily added: "...but I might be able to convince your mother to roll with it."

"Alright! Thanks, Richard!" Helena hugged him again before leaving to get out of her batsuit and finish the remainder of her homework. Alfred watched her go with a look that seemed to convey both pride and sadness simultaneously.

"She has so much passion, that girl. For the life of a costumed hero in particular."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"I've often wondered." Alfred admitted. "I've been supporting Master Bruce's crusade for almost thirty years now. But I have not always loved or agreed with his decisions. And the decision to bring teenagers into battle, well..."

"We've always been able to handle ourselves, Alfred. Better than most _adults_ can."

"True. That's the only reason I accepted it at all. But I've never loved it. Neither has Leslie."

"Yeah, I know...how _is_ she these days anyway?"

"Old and tired, same as me." Alfred said with a weary smile before adding: "Though, to my mild envy, not quite as much as me."

"Well, she _is _twenty years younger then you." Richard said with a teasing smile.

"Alas."

Richard's smile widened. Despite that age gap, it was clear that Alfred had always been attracted to the good doctor, and given how much of a looker she'd been back in the day, who could really blame him? But, ever the gentleman, Alfred hadn't acted on those feelings. But he and Leslie remained close regardless.

"I heard she was planning to go overseas to do what she could to save lives in 'Nam. Is that true?"

"It is. Leslie opposes this war more than anyone else, but she's also committed to saving lives, and knows her talents are needed there. For people on _both_ sides."

"Lee's a tough lady, Alfred. I'm sure she can handle herself over there."

"I pray that you're right, Master Richard." There was a pause, before Richard decided to broach the tough question. He didn't want to, but he also felt he needed to know, given how much Bruce Wayne Jr. and William Robert Wayne were like little brothers to him.

"I take it...the draft has come for BJ and Bill-Bob?"

"Master Bruce Jr. and Master William are both in college as of now, and so they are granted exemption from the draft...for now. But, I fear that even that will not keep them safe forever."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. But...there _is_ always the possibility of..."

"...using the Wayne fortune to buy their way out of service?" Alfred smiled and shook his head. "You know as well as I do that that can never be, Master Richard. Those boys are their father's sons, and they won't do anything that would be seen as cowardly. _Or_ do anything that would bring dishonor to the Wayne name."

"I figured as much. But that means they'll be in the same position Bruce was in back during World War II. Either compromise their secret identities..."

"...or go out of costume and be forced to carry guns and take lives. Yes, I know. I have not spoken to them about it, but I suspect they will make the same choice Master Bruce did. They know that maintaining their secret identities is paramount to the mission of the Batman family."

"Too true." Richard's face fell and he sighed. "I have to say I...feel guilty, Alfred. I never had to go overseas and fight. I was too young in World War II and was protected by College during the Korean War. But Bruce had to go. And now his sons may have to go. Knowing that...it feels like I cheated. Like I got to get away with not making the same sacrifice as everyone else."

"Don't think like that. You know no one in this family faults you for not serving. We all understand why. And Master Bruce would never have forgiven himself if he'd let you go to Europe or the Pacific as a teenager, and neither would I."

"I know, Alfred. But the guilt is still there. Honestly, I'd probably be doing what Bruce is doing right now, if I didn't have my responsibility to the Teen Titans...how _has_ Bruce been doing there anyway?"

Alfred sighed again. "He's grown too old for it, Master Richard. We both know it. And a nightmare like this war is hardly the place for him to be. Mrs. Wayne is absolutely livid with him. They...did not part on the best of terms."

"That may explain why I haven't seen much of her lately." Richard noted. "But she'll get over it eventually...I hope. For Bruce's sake..."

_Vietnam_

Now forced to move on foot until he could get another bat-bike brought over, Batman still found ways to make the trek easier. He used his grapple hook to zip from tree branch to tree branch, doing this until he came to a more open area once again where there were no trees to zip towards or jump off of. Batman checked his maps and could tell he was still some miles away from the special bunker he had hidden deep in the jungle. His own home away from home where he could rest and recover in-between excursions into the jungles. Sometimes, he would also get shelter and aid from grateful villages, but this was not common, as even with the good he did for the Vietnamese on both sides, he was still feared by the civilians almost as much here as he was in Gotham during his early years. A few even raised weapons against him.

Eventually, Batman came to an area north of the city of Saigon. He could see that there were bodies littering the ground. He was too late.

A cursory examination revealed that nearly all of them were Viet Cong. Hardly an American corpse in sight. And looking at who a large number of _living _Americans were gathered around in awe, the reason became obvious: a man in a bulky suit of hi-tech power armor that was mostly in green but with some purple spread throughout, including purple gauntlets and boots. The torso piece was bulky and raised at the top to encase the neck and sides of the head. A green and purple helmet with eye lenses in opaque gold like an Astronaut's visor, completed the look.

"Yet another flawless demonstration of the wonders of the Lexcorp Warsuit, folks. As always, the genius of Lex Luthor saves lives and helps the world."

"Except when it's used to try and conquer it." Batman said with disgust. At the sight of him, all of the GIs whipped around and raised their guns, but their armored savior put himself in-between them and Batman. "Gentlemen, please, please. There's no need for any of that. I'm not afraid of the Batman's criticisms. In fact, I _welcome_ them. Gives me the opportunity to prove our self-righteous crusader here wrong."

"Lexcorp is dirty." Batman said simply. "It always has been."

His counterpart scoffed. "_Please_. Everyone knows that it was Luthor genius that helped win World War II. And ever since then, Lexcorp has been the leading developer of state-of-the-art military hardware and technology for our country. Bar none."

Batman knew all this of course. He had never stopped being incredulous and disgusted that Luthor had weaseled his way into the government's good graces. But, because he _had_ used his genius to help defeat the Third Reich in the second World War, he, Hugo Strange, Ultra-Humanite, and other "evil genius" types who had all lended their brainpower and inventions to the cause, had been given either Presidential Pardons or drastically reduced sentences. And after that, all of them became great favorites of Uncle Sam. All, except Ultra-Humanite, who had mysteriously disappeared. But Lex Luthor, he _thrived_ in the government, and never passed up an opportunity to thumb his nose at his old nemesis Superman (or any other superhero), over his newfound public respect and love. It was greater even than what he had had before Superman's debut.

But however much others might be fooled, Batman saw right through Lex Luthor. And he didn't need any x-ray vision to do it.

"Your interference will just make this war worse." Batman said. "What do you think will happen if the Viet Cong get their hands on your precious Lexcorp technology? Could you imagine an army of Viet Cong with armor like that?"

"Don't insult me. That won't happen. Any slope* who even tries to touch me in this armor is a dead man. Face it, Batman; you're just envious because my hardware is finally superior to yours."

"Alright, alright, enough of this!" Barked the leader of the GI platoon before pointing right at Batman. "This freak's considered an enemy combatant, a traitor, and a Charlie sympathizer. He's to be shot..."

The platoon leader was cut off when a vine shot out of the earth and impaled itself on his chest. It lifted him into the air, his body jerking back and forth all the while like a crazed marionette. More vines sprouted up, each one attacking a different soldier.

_Damn._ Batman thought. She _**has **healed._

Using batarangs and herbicide, Batman began destroying the vines one by one. Laser blasts from the Warsuit also destroyed them, but by the time it was over, three soldiers were dead besides the platoon leader.

"This is Poison Ivy's work." Batman observed. "If I had to guess, she's controlling all of the plant life in the earth ever since she got swallowed up by it."

"What are you blabbering about?"

"Poison Ivy was shot earlier. She then got swallowed up by the earth, presumably so she could heal and to keep herself safe from further attacks. But now that she has, she seems to be connecting directly with all the roots, vines, and other plant matter buried in the earth. She's controlling _all _of it."

"That's absurd."

"No, it isn't." Piped up one of the younger GIs. "Another platoon east of here just radioed for help. They say _vines_ are attacking them. I think Batman's telling the truth."

"...very well. Since you seem to know this 'Poison Ivy' character so well, you can tell us what we need to do to _kill_ her."

"I told you, she's buried in the earth. She could be anywhere, and we can't tear this whole jungle apart to find her."

"Of course we can. Lexcorp has the means to do _precisely_ that. Granted, The President thinks it would be bad PR to destroy the _entire _jungle, which is why we haven't done it yet. Especially when the ones on our side use it too. But once I inform him of the current situation, he may be persuaded to change his mind."

"_Or _I can use my equipment to monitor tremors in the earth and from there trace the routes back to a common source. We'll find Poison Ivy wherever that common source is."

"Then by the authority of the US Government, I order you to..."

"I'm not part of the military _or _Lexcorp. You have no sway over me."

"Oh no?" The Warsuit's gauntlets were raised as the whole armor began to glow as it began channeling energy into palm blasts. "_Try _me."

With all the speed he had in him, Batman drew and hurled a device that stuck to the Warsuit. It was enough. He did it before he could be shot by the energy blasts, and the device sticking itself to the armor got its wearer's attention. "You seriously think this armor wasn't designed to be EMP resistant?"

No sooner had he said that did the device activate and an electric shock rip through the Warsuit.

"Did _you_ think I wouldn't have expected that, and made my EMPs more powerful to compensate?" Batman returned with a raised eyebrow. "You should have seen that coming. _He _would have."

"Damn you!" Was the response Batman got, followed by: "_Kill him!_"

"You do that and you'll never find Poison Ivy in time. I'm the only one who can locate her."

There was a tense, awkward silence between them all, before the same young soldier who had stood up for Batman before said: "I think we should listen to him. I mean, this 'Poison Ivy' is killing us..."

"No one asked you for your opinion, Private Wilson!" Barked one of the older, tougher looking GIs in the bunch.

"He _is _right though." Admitted another. "Face it, Clay, we need Batman in this."

"Figures the _Gotham boy_ would say that." Yet another GI returned with a sneer.

"The longer you men debate this, the more time is wasted." Batman said pointedly. At that, all of the GIs grumbled, but finally the man who had stood up for Batman and Private Wilson stepped forwards. "You'll have to forgive them, Bats. They don't know you like I do." He held out a hand. "My name is Jason Bard. The angry one's Joshua Clay, the skinny one's Slade Wilson, and..."

"There will be time for introductions later. Right now, I need a means of easy transport to get back to my bunker. All of my equipment is there and I need it to find where Poison Ivy is."

"...I believe that can be arranged."

"You're not in charge here, Bard!" Shouted Joshua Clay.

"The captain's dead, and I don't see any of _you _chuckleheads coming up with a better idea!" Turning back around, Bard shook his head. "Don't worry, Batman. We'll get you something. It'll have to be small though."

"Just as well. A simple motorcycle will suffice."

"Alright then. And I hope you really do know how to bring this crazy plant bitch down."

_Gotham City, The Aviary_

Two-Face IV returned to his boss' hideout, one hand clutching nervously the handgun that he knew would do him no good if his boss was displeased with him, and the other hand gripping tightly his two-headed silver dollar with a scarred side. Not the original, obviously. That was with Batman along with other things he'd taken from defeated foes over the years. No, this was just a replica. A pretty convincing one, but a replica nonetheless.

_Just like me..._

He made his way up the stairs slowly, all the while being reminded of that Hitchcock film he'd seen years ago, until finally he reached the top floor. There were no guards. Just an automated defense system in the form of hidden, set-up machine guns. If the right switch was pulled, the guns would be made to fire at whoever was there. Only the man on the other side of the wall got to decide who came in and who didn't.

But, as he was expected, Two-Face was not shot. Instead, the wall slid back to reveal what was on the other side; a room that was filled with computers, maps, plans, weapons, and everything else his boss needed to commit his crimes. And in the center, sitting in a black metal chair that looked more like a throne, was the man himself. He had his back to Two-Face as he came in, but Two-Face could still see the eerie sight of his bald, scarred head before a device from above slowly lowered his latest owl-themed helmet down onto his head. Only when it was fully on did the chair swivel about, and Owlman was facing Two-Face.

Two-Face spoke immediately. Owlman didn't need to order him: "The bat-brats still haven't caught me, and still don't know where I'm hiding out or what my endgame is. And they definitely don't know I'm working for you."

"They'd better not. You're useful to me, Two-Face. But as your being the fourth to bear that name shows, you are _not _irreplaceable. In any case, I have another assignment for you."

_Another one? _Two-Face thought with dismay and _almost _said out loud before remembering what might happen if he did. "Uh...sure, boss. Yeah...what is it?"

"There are old properties in Gotham's East End that are all but worthless. I want the richer, nicer parts of the city to become more like them. I have a list of targets here." Owlman held up a parchment in one hand. "Your men will destroy them, bomb them, and terrorize them. All to ensure that no one will want to live there anymore."

Two-Face balked at this, but nonetheless nodded and stammered: "Uh...y-yeah. Sure."

Owlman flashed a cruel smile. "You don't know _why_ I want you to do that, do you?" He asked. Two-Face didn't dare risk being dishonest here, as he knew he'd never be able to fool a concussed man in his current state, much less his boss. "I...I'll admit I don't really understand..."

"Think; if once valuable property _loses_ its value to almost everyone, it gives _me_ the opportunity to purchase it at a bargain, and then renovate it."

"So...it's about the money then? Yeah, that makes sense..."

Owlman chuckled. "Ah, Two-Face. So charmingly uncomplicated. The money is but an ancillary benefit. You should know by now that money is not a concern of mine."

"Then what _is _the reason you want to buy up all that property?"

Owlman shook his head in response. "That will remain my secret for now. Just do as you're told."

Two-Face nodded and left. As he did, Owlman thought to how he had already purchased the dilapidated Gotham Village, which ended a stand-off that had been happening between those who wanted it destroyed, and those who wanted it preserved for the sake of those living there. Now, it _would _be destroyed, but then rebuilt. The people there would love him for it, and his remaking of Gotham will have completed one more section.

_And on and on it goes. And with Batman off in Vietnam, he's powerless to do anything about me and my plans...for now. _

_Vietnam_

No sooner had he been provided with a motorcycle was Batman off, driving as fast as he dared through the jungles until at last he came to his bunker. He opened the hidden hatch and closed it behind him. Descending to the bunker that served almost like a mini-batcave, Batman began tuning his instruments to check for tremors and fault lines. Sure enough, he was soon able to form a pattern and from there pinpoint where Ivy most likely was. He then had the batcomputer print out his readings to serve as a map. As that was being done, Batman restocked on herbicide bombs, but also knew he would need more than them. Though he didn't like the idea, he nonetheless decided to bring a flamethrower as well. The moment he added it to his arsenal, he felt like he was everything Poison Ivy accused humanity of being. The thought disgusted him, but he forced it down. Ivy was out of control and lashing out at everyone on both sides. And though Batman also fought both sides, he did it to protect civilians and stop war criminals. Poison Ivy though, just wanted to kill for the sake of those destroyed parts of the jungle.

Exiting the bunker, Batman returned to the borrowed motorcycle and made his way to where Poison Ivy was. As he got closer, he suddenly realized that he may not have needed the map after all:

A massive, bulbous green pod had appeared from the Earth, and surrounding it were a mess of thorny vines, giant flowers, and puddles of something corrosive that Batman reasoned was either acid or poisons secreted by all the plants. More distressing, was that a large number of people had gathered around this pod. Between their kneeling in front of it and staring at it as if in prayer, they rather resembled a religious congregation. Only, the "god" they worshipped was of a decidedly different sort then most.

Looking through his x-ray binoculars, Batman's suspicion was confirmed; Ivy's body was indeed within the pod, with several vines holding her in place and her body stretched out. Clearly, she was still recovering, but had regained enough power to do what she had done.

Then more came out of the clearing and joined the group. Batman deduced that they must all be under some sort of hypnotic trance, as their postures, lack of noise, and completely placid nature were not consistent with people who were merely curious and looking at a strange sight. That some were GIs and others Viet Cong also gave it away.

Batman considered his options. Charging head-long seemed a poor choice, especially since he would risk having to hurt or kill the people who were surrounding the pod, which he did not wish to do given that they were clearly under Ivy's thrall. And even aside from that, if he attacked the pod with the herbicide bombs or his flamethrower, Ivy could die. He wanted to stop her, but he'd rather not have to kill her to do it.

Then, an eerie, echoing voice that Batman recognized as Poison Ivy's only distorted, rang out: "Go forth...my children. Go forth and bring others here. So that I may open their eyes and make them see the truth. Help me spread my love to all. Go now..."

Batman quickly darted into the cover of some trees and peered down; sure enough, when the people turned, they all bore eyes glazed over in green and all had ugly green veins on their skin too. Ivy was controlling them alright. He just hoped there was some way to cure them of it. Otherwise, it was little different than murder in Batman's view. Being a mindless drone was no way to live.

Batman waited until most of the drones had moved off before he made his move, hurling herbicide bombs at many of the giant flowers, and smoke bombs at the drones. The roar of pain and fury from Poison Ivy as Batman did these things was so terrible it came closer than most things did to unnerving him.

Having perched himself on a tree overlooking the pod, Batman dropped down and began hitting it. Ivy screamed with every blow he landed, but Batman also noticed that more of the plants withered away and vines retreated as he did it.

_Good, it's as I hoped; she can't maintain all the plants **and **heal herself in the pod at the same time under pressure. So I just have to keep applying pressure._

Another punch. Then a kick. Ivy's screaming was now so bad Batman wished he was deaf. But still he kept at it. Eventually though, vines moved in to try and attack or ensnare him. These were dealt with via the flamethrower, and no sooner did Batman unleash _that _on her precious plants did Ivy began adding recriminations to go with her screams.

"_Murderer! _You vile murderer! You've burned my babies! _Damn you!"_

Batman ignored her raving and kept going. Better her plants should die than Ivy herself. Batman could have just as easily turned the flamethrower on _her_, but still he held back. This wasn't World War II, and he wasn't Bruce Wayne here in this moment. He didn't need to do it anyone's way but his own.

**_"I'll kill you! I'll make sure you die slowly!"_**

Batman counted himself lucky that Ivy couldn't command her plants to their fullest extent while the pod that was healing her was under attack. He'd have never lasted this long without having to kill her otherwise. Even as he continued he could see plant after plant wither away or grow smaller. The hold on the drones was also being broken, but Batman knew Ivy was probably calling the others back to their position at that very moment.

With a roar, and willing herself to use what strength she had left, Poison Ivy forced scores of vines and plants to shoot out of the ground, out of trees, and even out of the pod, sending them all at Batman. He tried to burn them all, but one vine took off the fuel pack of his flamethrower, ripping it off and sending it through the air before it exploded. Throwing away what was left of the ruined weapon, Batman tried to take out more herbicide bombs, but was restrained.

"**_Now _**begins your slow, agonizing..."

Intense, red beams of heat cut through the vines. Ivy shrieked again and Batman fell, but not to the ground. The source of the beams caught him courtesy of super speed. Batman frowned. "It took you long enough. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever get involved in this war."

In a dazzling red and blue blur, Batman's savior swiftly took out the last of the plants with a combination of super speed, super strength, arctic breath, and heat vision. All the usual Kryptonian package. Batman shook his head again.

"Still as flashy as ever."

The blur stopped its efforts and turned to look at Batman directly. She smiled. "Well I _am _Superwoman." The grown-up "Girl of Steel" said with a wink.

With all of her plants destroyed, Ivy's body convulsed and then went limp. Batman frowned. "Is she...?"

"I still hear her heartbeat, so no, she's not dead. She's just resting right now. We took a lot out of her, and while she was still healing too. Now, all she can do is rest and let the pod keep healing her. She won't be causing any more harm or damage any time soon."

"Good. Thanks for the help."

"Don't mention it. Kal may still have his reservations, but I'm done just waiting around doing nothing. That's not how I do things."

"It's not how _I_ do things either." Batman admitted, before adding: "Kara...can you stand guard over Ivy's body until she recovers? The Americans will kill her while she's like this if she's not protected."

Superwoman nodded. "Sure thing, Batman. And once she's recovered enough to be moved, I'll cut her out of that pod and take her to the new supervillain prison."

Batman nodded his approval and then returned to his motorcycle. Soon he was on it again and drove off. Before he could reach his bunker though, he was intercepted by an unpleasantly familiar face. Or, _helmet_.

"Where is she? Where's the plant witch?"

"Right now, she's unconscious and healing. A mutual friend is looking after her."

"Please. One of your 'superfriends' you mean. Another pompous interloper with no business in affairs of the US Government."

"Any place where innocents are being threatened is our business. You should know that by now."

Another scoff from the man. "Don't insult my intelligence. You and your friends can't look at the big picture. You _never _have! It's all just a game of cops and robbers to you. But Lexcorp is working to build a _true_ better tomorrow! We're working to make the world a better place for_ everyone_, not just put a few hoods in jail!"

"Save it. This isn't about that and you know it. This is about _Superman_. It always has been with you. You should let it go."

"_Never! _He took _everything _from me! Everything that was rightfully _mine!_"

There was a tense silence, before Batman said simply: "Your _father_ would be ashamed of you."

Gauntleted hands reached for the helmet and removed it, revealing a young face with jet black hair and his father's spit curl. Naturally handsome, but with anger, bitterness, and malice marring said handsomeness. His name, was Joel Kent. He was the firstborn child of Superman and Lois Lane..._and_ the protege of their greatest enemy.

"He's not my father anymore. _Lex Luthor_ is my father. The _one _man who appreciates my talents and what I have to offer. Not like you or the rest."

Batman said nothing. Instead, he merely looked at Joel Kent. And it was not his usual bat glare either. Instead, it was a look of pity.

Then he turned his motorcycle in a different direction, and drove away.

_Two Months Later_

"So you're really going?"

Bruce Wayne Jr. nodded. "Yes. So is Bill Bob. And _out_ of costume. We can't compromise the family secrets over this. And we won't be draft dodgers either."

"I understand."

BJ sighed and shook his head. "I feel so guilty leaving Helena alone, especially with all the arson attacks by Two-Face and Firefly lately. I...I don't think she's ready to handle everything here by herself. And mom's too old to look out for her in the field at this point. Dad...he _needs_ to come back. Here. Where he can..."

"Relax, BJ. _I'll _still be here. And so will Wonder Boy...he's got quite a crush on her, you know."

BJ groaned. "Don't remind me."

"Oh, come on. Is it really so different than what _we _have together?"

Looking up at the beautiful young woman with black hair in the blue costume with red skirt, cape, gloves, and high-heeled boots who was at that moment hovering in the air and smiling at him with so much warmth and understanding to go with her gentle humor, BJ couldn't disagree. "No, I guess not."

"I'll miss you, you know."

"With your speed, you can visit whenever you want. _And_ help whenever you want."

"I could, but I agree with daddy about this war. I...I don't want to get involved. Not yet at least." She lowered herself so that she was only a little off the ground. "So you'd _better _come back to me alive and in one piece, Bruce Wayne Jr."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Bruce pulled her in close for a kiss. "I will, Lara. I promise."

**Author's Notes: I figured that, if Leslie Thompkins first appeared in 1976 as an old woman, then it would make sense that she'd have been born after Alfred, whose already middle-aged when Batman debuts in 1939. Thus, assuming that Leslie is, say, 66 in 1976 (to keep it simple), I had her be born in 1910. This would make her just four years older than Bruce Wayne, and so more a contemporary of his than Alfred's.**

**Likewise, the Teen Titans founders besides Robin debuting in the 1960s along with the team as a whole necessitated reimagining Grayson not as their peer but their adult mentor (sort like Professor X with the original X-Men). As to why grown-up Richard Grayson is still Robin, that's because he didn't first appear as Nightwing until 1984. Thus like on Pre-Crisis Earth-2, Richard Grayson here is still Robin. Just older and wearing pants. :) ****This is _also _why grown-up Kara Zor-El is Superwoman instead of Power Girl (who debuted in the 70s).**

**And yes, Two-Face IV is an OC. The other two characters I mentioned though, Wilkins and Paul Sloane, are actual DC characters who have also used the name "Two-Face". Similarly, Jason Bard, Joshua Clay, and of course Slade Wilson, are all actual DC characters too, and all of them Vietnam War veterans. **

***NOTE: "Slope" is a racist insult directed against East Asian peoples, especially Vietnamese ones. Obviously not a word I condone using, but for a Vietnam War ****story, it makes sense that an American (especially one as villainous as Joel Kent), would use it. **


	5. 1970s: Demonic Quests and Father's Sins

_1971_

After several years sleeping in a small bunker in Vietnam, it felt _very _good to be able to sleep in a Wayne Manor king-sized bed again. Bruce Wayne had never considered himself even half as pampered as he let everyone think he was, but even he had to acknowledge that, at this point in his life, comfortable beds were a blessing he'd take over more spartan conditions any day.

It was just unfortunate that said bed now only held one again.

_Selina..._

She had told him when he'd finally come back last year that she needed some space. She was still angry at him, and his returning to her had only mitigated that _somewhat_. "_I need some time away. To...figure out how I feel. I'm sorry, Bruce. But you hurt me with what you went and did going off to Vietnam when I didn't want you to. Putting me through all of that...I'm not ready to forgive you just yet._

Bruce had accepted her decision without complaint. He had told her to take as much time as she needed, and that she'd always be welcome at Wayne Manor. He hadn't wanted her to go obviously, but he also knew that giving in to her desires was his only chance at saving their marriage. They'd made it work for about twenty years before he'd gone off to Vietnam. Now they were in danger of losing what they'd built for themselves together. And that thought hit him harder than he thought it would.

_I want her. Still. That's never changed. More than want...I **need **her. Its just not the same without her..._

But, Bruce had resigned himself to the fact that it was her decision to come back or not, and that as much as he hated the possibility, she might not _ever_ come back. In the meantime, he just had to do his best to cope with her absence. Seeing the time, he got up and got dressed. Exiting his bedroom, he smiled at the pleasantly familiar sight of his ever-faithful butler standing at attention.

"Good morning, Master Bruce."

Alfred was eighty now, but still well dressed and carrying himself with the practiced dignity he had honed ages ago. Still at Bruce's side and unwavering in his loyalty, there were times when Bruce felt that Alfred was stronger in old age than he was. At least in matters of spirit.

Bruce had a modest breakfast and then allowed Alfred to drive him to the Wayne Enterprises building where he now worked. Bruce would have preferred one of the younger chauffeurs, but Alfred had insisted. Just one of the little ways he tried to stay useful.

Bruce had spent his younger years doing as little of the day-to-day managing of his family company as he could get away with, but now that he was no longer Batman, he had taken a more active role in managing things. He didn't particularly love it, but it gave structure to his life. And besides, Wayne Enterprises did good for the world too, just in ways different from Batman's methods.

The Bat-Plane (or "Batwing") flew by, getting Bruce and many other Gothamite's attention. Alfred smiled at the sight. "Master Richard has taken to the role of Batman in stride, sir."

Bruce nodded. It had been a tough choice between Richard and Bruce Wayne Jr., but the fact was that the former had been at his side almost from the beginning, and had far more experience and training as a result. And though he was not Bruce's son by blood, Bruce loved and treasured Richard as though he were. So, the mantle went to him. Of course, BJ's "Dark Knight" alias was so similar to that of Batman, that there was little difference to be had.

"We're here, sir." Alfred said. Bruce sighed. So the drive was over already. So be it. Work at Wayne Enterprises might not have the sense of personal satisfaction and accomplishment that being Batman did, but he'd just have to live with that.

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce replied. As he exited, Alfred said: "And remember sir, we're both invited to the wedding of Miss Helena and Master Patroclus."

"I know, Alfred. I've already selected wedding gifts for both of them." And then he walked into the Wayne Enterprises building.

_Helena...you really** have** grown up. And to think I still remember you as a little girl. I suppose all fathers do. We all prefer our children when they still have all their innocence..._

_Elsewhere_

"**_Where's the Joker!?_**" Huntress roared at the criminal she was currently dangling over the edge of the roof. The man, with his facepaint and green hair, was one of Joker's men, and based on his criminal history, was the one most likely to squeal. They weren't disappointed.

"He...he's meeting with arms dealers to the east of here."

"_How_ far east?" Dark Knight pressed, in a tone that matched his younger sister's in intensity.

"A...a...a couple miles, I think. Not a huge distance, but more than a block or two."

Dark Knight and Huntress turned to look at one another. Each knew what the other was thinking; they _could _keep tormenting this thug for more specific info, but they decided what they had was enough. After leaving the Joker thug tied up for the police, the two were off.

"Why can't that clown ever stay dead or locked up?" Huntress wondered. "I mean he's an old man now. I can't _believe_ he's still running around causing trouble!"

"He's not the only one though." Dark Knight pointed out. "Other enemies of dad's are still going at it even now."

"Yeah, don't remind me." Huntress grumbled. "I'm still getting over that dose of Fear Gas from the last time we fought Crane. None of these psychos had better try anything on my wedding day is all I can say. If they ruin that, they'll wish they never turned to crime."

Dark Knight nodded. "Yeah, I don't envy any criminal who'd have to face your boyfriend's wrath."

"_Fiancee._" Huntress corrected, before adding: "And for the record, I am _way _scarier than him when I get mad."

"I can believe it." Dark Knight acknowledged with a smile.

As they got closer to where Joker was supposedly meeting with arms dealers, Dark Knight perceived that Huntress, not for the first time, seemed unhappy. She tried to hide it behind a mask of cold-blooded professionalism (the kind their father had perfected during his time in a cape and cowl), but Dark Knight knew his little sister well enough to see right through it. And he also could guess what it was about.

"You're thinking of Bill-Bob again, aren't you?"

Huntress nodded. "I wish he was still here with us. I wish he could see me and Patroclus get married. I wish he'd seen you and Lara get married..."

"I miss him too, Helena. Not a day goes by when I don't think of him. But he _knows_ how we feel. And I know that wherever he is now, he'd want us to be happy."

"Yeah, I know. Still, it's not fair. After _everything_ we've all been through before and after the war, and he goes out to a stupid landmine..."

"We never know how we're going to go, Helena. For all we know either or both of us could be killed by some punks who get lucky. We just have to accept that."

Huntress said nothing, but she didn't need to. She knew her older brother was right (as usual). But that didn't mean she had to like it. Bill-Bob's death had hit everyone in the family so hard. And Helena for one suspected that it had contributed to the rift that had formed between her parents and driven her mother away from the house. Helena didn't want to think that her mom blamed daddy for Bill-Bob's death, but she did often wonder...

"There he is."

Huntress and Dark Knight took cover and peered down. Sure enough, there was Joker, along with several of his men, exchanging money and guns. Interestingly, it was Joker's men who were giving the other side weapons, while they in turn got money. Interesting, but not inexplicable: arms dealers needed to get guns to sell in the first place after all, and Joker had a greedy streak as well as a violent one (plus all his mayhem didn't exactly fund itself), so the two superheroes put two and two together easily enough.

"There! Now you go and have fun with your new toys now." Joker said, as though speaking to children getting presents on Christmas. One of the arms dealers smirked. "Yeah. 'Fun'. Come on boys, let's bail."

"Should we follow them?" Huntress asked.

"No, I think it's better to pursue Joker for now. The sooner we get _him _off the streets, the better."

"We could always split up."

"Terrible idea. If you're not dad, it's at least a two-hero job taking Joker down. Even now."

"_Richard_ can take him solo."

"Maybe, but he's busy dealing with Lord Death Man and Clayface right about now. So the two of us will have to do."

Huntress nodded her understanding. "Alright then. Let's get him."

_The East End_

Batman's pursuit of Clayface might be ongoing, but that did not mean that all other crime in the city decided to take the day off and watch the spectacle. No, as had always been the case in Gotham and elsewhere, criminals didn't stop for anything. Batman and his predecessor to the mantle had known_ that_ since the forties.

_So much has changed since then..._

It was hard to believe that it had been exactly thirty years since he'd first gotten into the superhero life. Sure, it felt like a long time. His teenage exploits as Robin didn't quite feel like yesterday. But somehow, it didn't feel like thirty years either. Mostly, he was struck by how much things had changed in that time..._and_ how much felt like it was exactly the same.

_And unfortunately, it's mostly the stuff I **wish **would change. _Batman thought as he continued to scan the rooftops looking for trouble. Sure enough, it wasn't long before he saw a gang of drug pushers in one room. Another in a separate building had a pimp who was taking a belt to two of his girls. And a third had some smugglers he'd actually been tailing for a week.

Batman sighed. He knew that it would likely be foolish to risk letting the latter slip away again, and drug pushers were peddling a particularly harmful substance, but...

_What can I say? I've always had a soft spot for the beautiful ladies in distress. Heh. Guess I really am a Dark **Knight. **_

With that chivalrous thought in mind, Batman went in the direction of the pimp and the hookers. The pimp, true to his type, played the coward in the face of someone who could actually defend themselves, and ran the second he saw Batman. Big-boned as he was though, he didn't get far. Batman was on him in moments, fractured a few bones, and left him with a stern warning on what would happen if he ever ill-used his prostitutes again. He then politely suggested to the women in question that they go to Leslie Thompkin's clinic for shelter and better opportunities, which they had the sense to take him up on. Making his way out, Batman was disappointed but not surprised to see that he had indeed missed his chance to get the smugglers.

But, he _did _see that the drug pushers were still there. So he still had a shot at getting _them_.

Batman smiled behind his helmet. _Well, at least there's that._

_Wayne Enterprises_

Bruce Wayne went outside onto one of the balconies for some air following yet another tedious boardroom session. Worse than tedious, actually. Acrimonious and irascible would have been more apt descriptions.

_How many more times do we have to tell them no before they accept it? _Bruce thought with more than a little bitterness.

"Ah, _there _you are." Came a voice Bruce was actually _happy _to hear. Turning, he smiled and saw Lincoln March standing there, with a weary, long-suffering smile on his face. Slowly walking over to Bruce, he stood next to him looking out over the balcony at the city that they both cared for so deeply. No matter how flawed, it was still their home.

"Have you helped General Eiling find his way to the street yet?" Bruce asked, more testily than he should have given it was one of his oldest friends and long-time business partner he was talking to.

"Eiling chose to leave on his own, actually. I think he could tell negotiations weren't going anywhere."

"It's not like him to surrender."

"Oh, he'll be back, I'm sure of it. We've just staved him off for a little while. But he'll be back. Because you're right; Wade Eiling doesn't surrender. Stubborn old bastard."

"We're both that too, you know." Bruce noted with a sad chuckle before turning serious again: "He needs to be made to accept the fact that Wayne Enterprises will not make weapons for wars it doesn't believe in or support. And certainly not after My Lai."

"I know, I know. But hey, at least it wasn't _Lexcorp_ representatives they sent this time."

"They know that won't work. They know Wayne Enterprises has a strict policy to refuse entry to any Lexcorp employee unless it's someone willing to switch sides. They had no choice but to try and send their own people."

"'Switch sides'. Damn, we _are _in a war." Lincoln shook his head. "If it's not with bullets, it's this board room, cloak-and-dagger shit. I'm too old for it all, Bruce. We both are. Almost makes me miss the big one. At least then it was straightforward and we all knew exactly who the bad guys were. Even _Luthor _knew it."

"And now he uses the fact that he helped us win with his inventions and 'genius' as a bargaining tool." Bruce said, shaking his head in disgust. "He may have helped against the Nazis, but Lex Luthor thinks of nothing and no one but himself."

"Maybe. But I'm not sure we can keep saying 'no' to these people forever, Bruce. It _is _the US Government after all. One _still _at war. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised they haven't _already_ tried to force us to do what they want."

"They haven't tried because the moment they do, it will make them look like the bad guys. And they don't want that. Least of all when this war is already highly unpopular. They're going to try as hard as they can to get a deal with us rather than resort to strong-arming."

"Well either way, we might be looking at coercion soon."

"I know." Bruce sighed. "Damn it. Why can't this war just end already? We've been in it for eight years now. _Eight."_

Seeing Bruce's hands tighten on the railing so hard his knuckles turned white, and perceiving the shaking in his body, Lincoln put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about William."

Bruce said nothing, instead trying and failing to think about something else. _Anything _else. But he couldn't. The memory of his son's apparent demise was seared into his brain. He often told himself that there was the possibility that his son had survived. After all, they had never found a body, not even charred remains, and stranger things had happened throughout Bruce's life. His son could still be alive. Bruce wanted, no, **_needed _**to believe that. Because the moment he fully accepted the alternative...

"...look, I can see you need some space. I'll leave."

"No, Lincoln...don't go. I appreciate your company. I always have. You know that."

Nodding, Lincoln stayed. They continued to look out over at Gotham City. It was getting dark now, the sun slowly starting to dip below the horizon and bathing the city in a dark orange light as the sky went blue, orange, and pink. For a long time they just stared at it, saying nothing. Bruce thought to how if he was even just five or six years younger he'd still be out there, patrolling the city and prowling the rooftops as Batman. Doing the thing that gave his life the greatest purpose. But, he had at last grown too old for it. He was fifty-seven years old now, and even men at the peak of human physical ability get old and slow eventually. Besides, he'd left the mantle in worthy hands.

"So...how is Mrs. March these days?" Bruce decided to ask, hoping to focus on something more innocuous.

"Julie's doing well, thank you." Lincoln said with a nod. "Hard to believe we've been married for over twenty years now. Celebrity marriages have notoriously short lifespans."

"You beat the odds. You should be proud of that." Bruce said. Lincoln suspected Bruce was thinking of his own damaged marriage to Selina, but had the class to not pry. Instead, he looked at Gotham again. "Damn, she is beautiful. Especially now. We've done a lot to clean Gotham up, old friend. Make her all nice and presentable."

Bruce didn't laugh. Didn't even chuckle. But he _did_ smile and nod. "Yes, we did. But I don't think you and I can take _all _the credit."

Lincoln frowned. "I assume you're referring to Batman? Yeah, he did a good job keeping the psychos and nutcases that this city's overrun with under control. But to tell the truth, I've never really been the biggest fan of Batman. Don't get me wrong, I think he's been absolutely necessary for keeping us safe from madmen like Joker all these years. But..." Lincoln March shook his head. "Not all problems can be solved with a fist or some fancy smoke bombs, Bruce. If you _really _want to make a city better, **_really _**better, something to truly be proud of, you need more."

Bruce gave a weary smile in response. "I couldn't agree more, old friend."

_Elsewhere_

"I have to admit, I'm impressed." Huntress admitted as Joker's car finally came to a stop. "We've been following him for miles, and he didn't even try to shoot a single person the whole way through. Maybe Joker's getting restrained in his old age?"

"No such luck I think." Dark Knight said, shaking his head. "He's just being prudent."

"Yeah, I know. Just trying to lighten the mood. He sure picked one heck of a place for his latest lair."

The place in question was an old aquarium next to a beach. There had recently been an oil spill there, and the mess still hadn't been completely cleaned up. It made for a dismaying sight, the natural beauty of the beach marred and the aquarium having long ago fallen into disrepair and neglect. In fact, the whole thing was scheduled for demolition, and the animals within moved to a newer, better aquarium in the center of the city.

"Damn. We're too late." Dark Knight said as he and Huntress saw the dead bodies of two security guards. Their faces had been done up with clown face-paint, and written in blood on their torsos were the words: "On break".

"They must have already been dead when we all came here." Huntress observed.

"Yes, but they couldn't have been hiding here for too long, as the bodies would have been discovered or their absence looked into before long. Come on. If we don't hurry they'll move off again."

Huntress nodded, and she and Dark Knight fired their grapple-hook guns at the side of the aquarium and zipped up to it's roof. Looking down through the windows, they could see that Joker and his men had hostages; one was another security guard, and the other was actually, from the looks of it, one of Joker's own men.

"We need to move in." Huntress said.

"We can't be reckless."

"I know. I'm not a rookie, BJ."

"We need to create a distraction first."

"Way ahead of you, older brother." Huntress said, taking out an explosive. Putting it on the window, she activated it once she and Dark Knight were at a safe distance. The resulting explosion sent a rain of broken glass down on Joker and his men, most of the latter screaming and diving for cover or trying to shield their bodies on instinct. This was followed by several smoke bombs that created a thick cloud. Diving into it, Dark Knight and Huntress went from thug to thug, and taking them down proved child's play with them being as disoriented and blinded as they were.

"That's quite enough, you two!" Joker called out. Looking up, Dark Knight and Huntress saw that Joker had made his way to a makeshift platform and was standing behind the security guard. "Unless you want to see this man become shark food as much as _I_ do, you'll start behaving yourselves!"

"The other man's one of yours, Joker. Why try to kill him?"

"Well, after my _last _arrest, I knew someone had ratted. It was one of five possibles, so I just killed them all! Bonkers here is the only one left. Isn't that right, Bonkers?"

"I didn't rat, boss! I swear!"

"Maybe, but either way seeing you get shredded by piranhas will make me smile! And you _want_ to make me smile, don't you Bonkers? Of course you do! That's what my henchmen are for!" Joker cackled, and even though he was now an old man it still rang as powerfully and disturbingly as it did in his prime. "But of course, what would _really _make me happy, is seeing you two do-gooders get it! So how about it? I'll let the security guard and Bonkers go, _if _you two take their places. Sound fair?"

"Go to hell!" Huntress shouted, shooting her crossbow at Joker. Joker had anticipated this though, and moved just as Huntress was taking aim and firing. "Tsk. Such bad manners. Nothing at all like your old man. Now, Batsy was a superzero with some _class! _You kids today. No respect for civility." Joker shrugged over-dramatically. "I suppose I'll just have to kill this innocent man here to teach you a lesson..."

"No wait!" Dark Knight cried out. "We'll do it!"

Joker's mood brightened. "You will? _Marvelous!_ Then step right up and join the show! I promise it will be a..._killer. _Ha, ha, ha, ha!"

Bonkers and the security guard both gulped in terror. Dark Knight and Huntress though, just groaned at Joker's terrible pun.

_Wayne Manor_

When Bruce Wayne returned home, he was quite surprised to find a man who looked about his age, garbed in a green tuxedo with matching cape, waiting for him.

"Good evening, Batman."

Bruce Wayne didn't flinch in the face of this. A normal man of his age and constitution might well have had a heart attack, or at best panic. But Bruce stood his ground and maintained his composure, at least inwardly. "Batman?" He said, slipping easily back into his harmless billionaire facade. "T-there must be some mistake. I'm Bruce Wayne..."

The man got up and chuckled in a condescending sort of way, shaking his head as he did. "Oh no, no, no, Detective. You need not engage in any playacting with me. I promise you I know _all_ about your double life. I have in fact known for quite some time. I know you were Batman in your youth, and only recently relinquished the mantle to your ward, Richard Grayson. I know also that your biological children also operate in this city in costumed guises of their own. Shall I go on?"

"No need." Bruce said, acknowledging that he'd been found out. "What do you want, Mr...?"

"My name is Ra's al Ghul. And I have some rather bad news that concerns us both."

"What?"

"My daughter Talia has been kidnapped. But, on the very same day she was taken, the kidnappers _also _abducted someone important to _you._..your wife."

Bruce's heart clenched at the words, but he suppressed that instinct. A mystery had just been laid at his feet, and as his long-dead mentor in sleuthing had taught him decades ago, sticking to cold logic was vital to good detective work. Logic and facts were what got cases solved, not messy emotions. Obviously he loved his wife and was determined to save her if she was really in danger, but he also knew he had to keep a clear head.

"Do you have proof?"

Ra's produced a photo from his coat pocket and showed it to Bruce. Sure enough, there was Selina, unconscious and bound. And next to her was a young, beautiful woman with tan skin and long brown hair who Bruce assumed to be Ra's al Ghul's daughter Talia.

"That was sent to me two days ago. Clearly, the kidnapper intended to drag you into this."

"So he counted on you coming here."

"Undoubtedly. He's a resourceful foe."

"So...you want my help?"

"Of course."

"I gave up being Batman for a reason. I'm too old for it now."

"No matter. I am hardly without my bodyguards and combat-capable associates. I do not require the Batman's_ physical_ prowess in this. Merely your detective and tracking skills. Supplementing my own intellect, it should be enough to locate your wife and my daughter."

Bruce considered it. Then, he asked: "Where's Alfred?"

"Your manservant is unharmed. A simple injection of a mild, harmless sedative. He'll likely be awake in another ten minutes or so. Perhaps less."

Bruce nodded. "I'll have to check on him to make sure he's alright."

"But of course. And then...?"

"_If_ Alfred is fine, I'll go with you."

"Very good, Detective. I knew you would be up for it. A man such as you does not, I suspect, retire easily. The chance for another adventure is too enticing a prospect to resist."

"I'm just doing it for my wife and your daughter."

"Of course. That's all I ask."

_The Aquarium_

Having surrendered to Joker, Dark Knight was handcuffed to the security guard while Huntress was handcuffed to Bonkers. Joker couldn't resist making a crack regarding the latter. "Now, now, hands to yourself, Bonkers. We mustn't manhandle the lady. I mean, we're not _savages_." Joker chuckled.

"Let the guard and your man go." Dark Knight said. But, to neither his surprise nor anyone else's, Joker reneged on his promise and pushed each handcuffed pair into one of the water tanks, laughing all the way.

"Damn!" Huntress swore. Again though, neither she nor her brother were surprised, and were already working to find a way out of their predicament. Using the handcuffs, she managed to garrote the shark, steering it into the side of the tank repeatedly. The shark squirmed and struggled fiercely, but Huntress wouldn't let go. She knew that if she did, the security guard's life was forfeit (and she didn't want to see how well her costume could stand up to shark bites either).

Finally, the shark was knocked out by the repeated collisions with the glass wall. No sooner was this done did Huntress and the security guard try to swim out together. Seeing this, Joker shook his head. "Good help is _so_ hard to find. I mean, what is the world coming to when you can't even trust a shark to eat who you feed it?" Taking out a gun, Joker aimed and fired. Just what Huntress had been hoping for. Moving just in time, she held the chain of the handcuffs right in the path of the bullet, and the shot severed them. Realizing that he'd just played into the hero's hands and ought to make himself scarce, Joker bolted. Huntress helped the security guard and herself out of the tank and then went down to where Joker's men were still lying unconscious on the floor. She picked up one of their discarded guns and and fired several bullet holes into the second tank. Surging forwards, Dark Knight kicked the cracked area as hard as he could. It broke, and Dark Knight and Bonkers fell out.

"Armor protected me from the piranhas. But this guy's in a bad way." He shook his head. "I tried to get them to focus on me, but some of them still got him. He needs to go to a hospital."

"I'll stay with him." The Security guard said. "You two stop that psycho."

"Will do." Huntress said. She and Dark Knight reclaimed their discarded utility belts and other gear, and then were off.

"We'll never catch him." Dark Knight said sadly. "He's got too much of a head start."

"Maybe not. Look!"

Sure enough, they saw Joker had fallen and was now covered in oil. He was forcing himself back up, but the slippery substance that had already caused him to fall once was interfering with his ability to get back up. Wasting no time, Dark Knight fired a grapple hook at the clown. The hook embedded itself in Joker's back. With a single tug, Dark Knight pulled Joker backwards and into striking range. One solid punch, plus a high-heeled kick from Huntress, sufficed to bring Joker down.

"See? I knew we'd get him."

"Yeah, thanks to an _oil spill. _Ironic, isn't it?"

_Elsewhere in the world_

Based on the photo, Bruce deduced that the likely place to start looking was Calcutta, judging from the material of the ropes used to bind Talia and Selina, and how the knife and clothing of the kidnappers in the picture matched those of a cult that operated in that area. So it was that Ra's al Ghul and Bruce Wayne, accompanied all the way by the former's massive, bald, brute of a bodyguard Ubu, got on a private plane and flew off to India. Once in Calcutta, they took a jeep through Malaysia after Bruce "convinced" some local informants to tell him where the kidnappers were. Privately, he felt some satisfaction at how he still had his talents for interrogation even though he was no longer Batman. Too bad he still didn't have the strength and speed...

The trail proved a winding one, taking them from Malaysia to a temple in the desert to finally the Himalayas. For this part of the journey, Bruce was bundled up in cold weather gear and parka, but he nonetheless found the trek arduous in the extreme. Every climb up felt like it aged him another decade, and every step through heavy snow with the harsh cold winds pummeling him reminded him of his growing frailty. All that in mind, he could only imagine how an ordinary man his age would have felt.

Ra's al Ghul seemed to be having a rough time of it also, from what Bruce could tell. He would often stop and double over to cough. Bruce had feared at first that he might start coughing blood, but it soon became clear that it was nothing as serious as that. Still, however much Ra's al Ghul tried to put on a strong front, Bruce could tell that the man was feeling his age and it's limitations as acutely as Bruce was feeling his. Only Ubu, similarly bundled up, seemed totally unfazed.

Finally, the trio came to a cave entrance. One that, it soon became clear, did not lead to a natural cavern. Rather, it led to the inside of a temple. One with slate gray walls and ceiling and little in the way of opulence. At least at first. But, as they made their way further inside, Bruce getting ahead of Ra's and Ubu, he at last came to a massive chamber filled with gold statues and decorations, and tapestries on the walls. Ones depicting, from the looks of it, the history of one, single warrior. One with a jackal mask that brought to mind the Egyptian God Anubis.

But the thing that most got Bruce's attention, was the sight of his wife, still bound. She looked up at him, and her eyes widened. "Bruce...? Bruce, is that you? What are you doing here?"

"I've come for you, Selina." Bruce said. Then, his gaze fell on the black eye. She'd had one in the photo Ra's al Ghul had shown him also. "Who hit you?"

"One of these ninja creeps." She smiled. "I put up a bit of a fight before they managed to carry me off. I've still got it, you know." She sighed. "I'm just...not as young as I used to be."

"I know the feeling." Bruce admitted. He walked closer to her, but then he heard Ra's al Ghul's voice behind him: "Ah, Detective! There you are! I can see you've found your wife. Now we must locate Talia..."

"No need." Bruce said darkly, turning around and staring Ra's right in the eye: "I think this little charade has gone on long enough, don't you?"

"I don't know what you mean, Detective."

"Sure you do. You told me that your daughter and Selina were abducted on the same day. But how could you have known that, unless _you _were the one who carried it out?" Bruce's frown deepened. "You slipped up, Ra's. You should have known I'd figure it all out."

"I didn't know, actually." Ra's al Ghul said with a smile. "But I strongly suspected it. And I must correct you on one point, Detective; I didn't 'slip' as you put it. I deliberately worded it that way. Think of it as a test. One you passed."

"To what purpose?"

"I have no sons, Detective." Ra's al Ghul explained. "I need one for the purposes of having an heir. In showcasing your intelligence, you have proven yourself worthy."

"We're both along in years, Ra's."

Ra's al Ghul smiled. "_That_, Detective, is a problem easily fixed. Free your consort and follow me."

Bruce finished making his way over to Selina and undid her bindings. The large number of ninjas that suddenly appeared, weapons in hand, gave Bruce and Selina incentive to listen to Ra's al Ghul and follow him. He led them into another room, one within which there was a large pool of green liquid. The liquid seemed to glow in an otherworldly way, and just looking at it, Bruce and Selina knew it was unnatural.

"This, Detective, is the Lazarus Pit. A most remarkable thing. Immersing oneself in its waters restores ones youth and heals injuries. It can even resurrect the dead. With these, I have lived for many, many hundreds of years. So has my daughter. But alas, over time, the pits have lost their effect on me. They no longer restore my youth as fully as they once did. Simply put, I still have need of an heir. Should you choose to be that heir, I will grant you access to the pit. You will be returned to your physical prime. To the level you were at as Batman. All I ask in return is that you agree to become my successor...and wed my daughter."

At this, Talia al Ghul herself stepped out of the shadows, and Bruce got his first good look at her. He had to admit, she _was _beautiful, and had he not been (mostly) happily married for over twenty years he might have been a good deal more tempted than he was. She had tan skin and long, dark brown hair. Her eyes were piercing, and her lips red. And she carried herself with confidence, but also sensuality and not a little sex appeal. In all, much of what Bruce had always found attractive in Selina (especially as Catwoman), was clearly present in Talia. She even wore a form-fitting, black leather catsuit and matching gloves and high-heeled boots, just as Catwoman had.

Selina noticed that last similarity too. "Stealing my fashion sense _and _trying to take my man? Now that's just tacky."

Talia ostentatiously ignored Selina and turned to look at Bruce. "I think we would be happy together, Mr. Wayne. I have observed you for some time, as my father has." Her smile became more devious. "And I like what I've seen."

"I'm sure." Bruce replied without humor. He turned to Ra's al Ghul. "No deal. Let us leave. Now."

"Now, now, Detective..." Ra's al Ghul said, his tone like one an adult might use with an angry teenager. "...if you know what's good for you, you'll..."

"And if _you _know what's good for _you _you'll let us leave, now!" Selina snapped, stepping forward challengingly. "I already gave some of your boys the one-two a while back, I'm happy to give it you too."

"How _dare_ you speak to my father like that!" Talia snapped. She put herself between Selina and Ra's al Ghul. She grabbed Selina's shoulder, and Selina responded by grabbing her arm and twisting it. Talia screamed and kicked Selina. "Bitch!" She shouted, and in that moment she wasn't beautiful to Bruce at all. He'd seen her type before, with Poison Ivy and many other female criminals; beautiful on the outside perhaps, but almost without exception ugly on the inside.

The fight between the two women continued for some while longer, but Talia was (at least physically), younger, and with it faster and stronger. So what followed next was perhaps only inevitable; drawing a sword from the scabbard worn at her hip, Talia drove it into Selina's stomach. Bruce screamed out Selina's name and raced to her side as her body fell and Talia pulled the sword out. Bruce was all set to attack her, but Ra's al Ghul intervened: "Don't be foolish, Detective. The healing powers of the Lazarus Pit are the only thing that can save your wife now. It is time to ask yourself what you believe."

Bruce gave him a scorching glare, but he also knew that Ra's al Ghul was right. Picking up his wife in his arms, he carried her to the edge of the Lazarus Pit. But right up at the edge, he stopped. "I assume you'll expect something in return."

"Not for this, no. Consider this one a...sample. Proof that the Lazarus Pit does everything I say it does. But your own use of it, yes. _That _will require your vow that you will marry Talia and become my heir."

Bruce said nothing, instead setting Selina into the Lazarus Pit's waters. She gasped in shock, and glowing green veins appeared all over her body. She screamed. A loud, terrible scream. But it also ended as quickly as it came, Selina being submerged in the green waters. A minute passed. Then two. Bruce was all set to dive in after her, to hell with any promises or conditions set by Ra's al Ghul, when Selina burst out of the water. Her wound was completely healed, as though she'd never even been stabbed. More remarkable though, she looked younger. No longer did she appear a woman in her late fifties; all the gray in her jet black hair was gone, and her face completely unlined. She didn't quite look the spitting image of Hedy Lamarr in her prime as she had when she and Bruce had first met out of costume in 1942, but much of her youth had nevertheless been restored.

Cautiously raising her hands to touch her face, and looking at her hands and arms, Selina gasped. "It...Bruce, I think it worked..."

"It did." Bruce said. He helped Selina out of the pit, and two of Ra's al Ghul's men went forwards with new clothes in hand.

"Such gentlemen." Selina muttered sarcastically, retreating behind a nearby pillar to change in private.

"There, you see? The Lazarus Pit does all I said it would. And that was just with two minutes immersion. I guarantee that in five minutes Detective, _you_ would be restored to your peak as Batman. All I ask in return for such a boon, is loyalty to my cause and taking my daughter's hand in marriage."

"I'm already married, Ra's."

"Yes, yes. You may keep the former cat burglar in your life as a concubine if you wish."

"As a _concubine!?_" Selina shouted, face flushed red as she stepped out from behind her hiding place. Her new clothes were actually the same black ninja garb worn by all of Ra's al Ghul's minions, male and female. The only thing missing was the mask. "Come on, Bruce. Let's get out of here."

"I warn you, Detective, I will not take rejection of my offer gracefully. The Demon's Head deals harshly with those who insult him and his generosity. Think carefully before you turn your back on me."

"Your daughter almost killed my wife. A wife who I have no intentions of leaving unless she wants me to."

Selina smiled at that. Ra's al Ghul remained calm. "Well, Detective, there is one last, final detail with which I ought to make you familiar." He turned behind him. "You may reveal yourself now, Aion."

And stepping forwards, was a ninja who wore a cat themed mask over his face instead of the usual ninja mask. Removing it, he revealed the face of...

"William!" Selina gasped, green eyes wide in horror. William's own green eyes seemed to soften upon looking at his mother, but he quickly forced it down and said coldly: "Yes, mother. The Demon's Head restored me to you."

"I told you, Detective; the Lazarus Pit can raise the dead as well as heal injuries and restore youth. You see before you the proof of that in your son who was taken from you in Vietnam."

"How _dare _you try to use my son as a bargaining chip." Bruce growled.

"Not a bargaining chip, father." William said, putting himself between Bruce and Ra's al Ghul. "I serve the Demon's Head willingly. He gave me a second chance at life, and has opened my eyes to the severity of the world's corruption. A strong hand is required to lead the world into a new era, father. Ra's al Ghul is that hand. You can be too." He spread his arms. "I don't want us to be enemies, father. I love you and mother. But I _also_ believe in what the League of Assassins does. It's not pretty but it _is _necessary. Please recognize that."

Bruce's face turned ashen at these words, but whatever grief, horror, and revulsion he felt in the face of first learning that his son was back and then immediately after learning what he'd aligned himself with, was replaced with an icy determination.

"No, William...I don't." Bruce said with the finality of a judge passing sentence on a condemned man. He turned his gaze to Ra's al Ghul: "You took my son from me. I won't let this stand."

"Your son made his own choice, Detective." Ra's al Ghul replied without sympathy. "And it seems you've made yours."

"Damn right I have. Sorry, Ra's. But you'll have to look elsewhere for a patsy."

Ra's al Ghul shook his head. "I had feared as much. Very well." He turned to William: "Aion, you know your duty."

"I do, Master." He entered a fighting stance. "You made a grave mistake, father."

"I'm not the only one." Bruce said, getting into a fighting stance himself even though he knew it was hopeless; he was well past his prime, and knew he wouldn't stand a chance against a son who had inherited the fighting skills of both his parents. Bruce and Selina might know their son's fighting style as well as they knew their own (they _had _given it to him after all), but only in a more physically fit body could Bruce actually exploit that knowledge to win. Add to that all the other ninjas who were closing in, and Bruce knew the odds stunk. But even so, he put on a brave face: "Batman will know what's happened here, Ra's. He'll come for you and your League."

"An empty threat. With the various madmen and lunatics causing trouble in your native Gotham, your successor and your progeny will be much too busy to go searching for you. Even if they did, they would not find this place in time. And once you and your mate are dead, my people will make sure to make your deaths seem an unfortunate accident. You've lost, Detective."

No sooner had Ra's al Ghul said this though, did several smoke bombs erupt within the crowd of ninjas. Whipping around, Ra's al Ghul, Talia, Aion, and the rest realized that someone had come from behind and was plowing through their men. Sure enough, bursting out of the smoke was Batman, hurling batarangs in every direction. One of them nearly hit Talia before Aion took it out with a well-aimed shuriken.

"Go, master! I'll deal with him!" Ubu shouted, moving in.

"Like hell, cueball." Batman retorted. Ubu tried to throw a punch, but Batman caught it. Putting forward strength to rival Ubu's, Batman applied such crushing pressure that Ubu screamed before Batman grabbed him and hurled him over head. Talia swung a sword at his neck but Batman expertly ducked and rolled forwards, getting to Bruce and Selina.

"What took you so long?" Bruce asked with a smile.

"_Clayface_. Plus smugglers, drug dealers, and an abusive pimp."

"The usual, in other words." Selina said in a deadpan.

"Pretty much."

"How did you discover this place?" Ra's al Ghul demanded as Talia, Aion, and the ninjas moved forwards to protect their leader.

"I told you, Ra's; I knew all along that you were behind Selina's abduction. You really think I'd follow you anywhere, especially at my age, without anyone to shadow me?" Bruce smiled. "You must not know me as well as you thought."

"Impossible, my men would have..."

"Spotted me?" Batman smiled behind his helmet. "New cloaking device, Ra's. Adapting what makes Wonder Woman's invisible jet live up to its name _was_ tricky, but we figured it out eventually. She was a good sport about it too. And it really does work like a charm. Made following _you _child's play."

Ra's frowned. "I see. No matter. You_ are_ formidable, I'll grant. But we still have you outnumbered. There is no way you are escaping here alive."

"Don't be so sure. You forget, it's not just _one _Batman you're fighting today..."

And then, Batman took from his belt a whip Selina recognized immediately as her old Catwoman bullwhip and tossed it to her. "Selina, rope him!"

Ra's al Ghul caught on immediately. "Stop them! They're going to-"

But it was too late. With a blur-like motion courtesy of her restored speed, Selina easily ensnared Bruce and pulled him towards her and Batman, out of reach of the ninjas who were already charging. Grabbing him together, Batman and Selina hurled Bruce into the Lazarus Pit's waters just as the ninjas attacked them, Aion included. Batman drew a pair of escrima sticks that had been serving him well for years and moved in, using what he knew of the Filipino martial art known as both "Kali" and "Arnis". His foes recognized that fighting style (some of them knew it too), but Batman integrated other martial arts into his fighting style also, and the ninjas fell like cardboard standees.

Selina did well for herself too. Though she was without her clawed gloves or the protection of her catsuit with a kevlar lining, she still showed that her years of fighting skills and training had not diminished. The only thing that had been keeping her back before was her age, and now that was no longer a problem. So it was that she unleashed the Kung Fu, Savate, and Tae Kwon Doe skills that she had accumulated over decades, and almost felt sorry for the men and women on the receiving end. Almost.

"William? Is that you!?" Batman said as he got a good look at Aion. This moment of distraction cost him when Aion delivered a solid roundhouse kick followed by more kicks that forced him back.

"Yes, Richard. It's me. Ra's al Ghul brought me back with the Lazarus Pit."

"So now you work for him." Batman said with disgust. "You've betrayed your own parents."

"They would not accept my master's vision. They would not accept what is necessary to truly save the world."

Batman threw some batarangs at him, but Aion avoided these easily before closing the distance again. This time though, Batman was ready for him and the tide shifted in the hero's favor.

"You're making a mistake, Richard." Aion said in-between traded blows from a half-dozen different martial arts styles. We want the same thing."

"Maybe once, William. But not anymore."

Meanwhile, Selina found herself facing Talia again.

"Time for a rematch."

Talia scoffed, twirling her sword challengingly. "Wayne deserves better than a lowborn whore like you."

Selina feigned offense. "Now you're just being mean."

Talia moved in, and Selina casually dodged her many sword strikes. Eventually, she grabbed Talia's sword arm and twisted it. Talia screamed and Selina kicked her repeatedly. Talia managed to free her sword arm, but Selina saw this coming, ducked her next sword swing, and gave an uppercut that sent blood out of Talia's nose. Snarling, and her pretty face ugly with hatred, Talia went at Selina again, but was no more successful. Selina managed to disarm Talia of her sword successfully, and then began laying into her. Talia did her best to mount a defense, but the difference in martial arts skill between them was very apparent; Catwoman broke through Talia's defenses repeatedly, landing blow after blow in punches and kicks alike.

Grabbing a discarded sword from a fallen ninja, Talia struck out wildly, but Selina saw this poorly thought out attack coming and narrowly backstepped out of the way. Leaping, Talia tried to bring the sword down on Selina's head. Arms shooting out like arrows, Selina caught the blade between her hands, keeping it's edge from her face. Talia tried to push harder and break the lock, but Selina put her own strength forwards, and outright snapped the sword blade. One last uppercut following this, sent Talia into the air before she landed on her back.

"INFIDEL!" Roared Ubu, now back on his feet. He was coming at Selina, who backflipped to avoid him. Ubu was fast for his size though, and quickly closed the distance...

...bursting out of the green liquid and sending it flying in all directions, a man moving in a blur met Ubu head-on and with a single, perfectly aimed boxing punch decked the bald man in his jaw so hard he took out a few teeth and sent him sprawling backwards. Capitalizing on Ubu's vulnerability, he pressed his assault, pummeling him with lightning fast boxing punches that knocked Ubu around like he was a duffel bag. An elbow strike from Muay Thai finished him.

Ubu landed with a sufficiently loud thud to get everyone's attention. All turned to see, standing there, Bruce Wayne, back in his physical prime and not looking the least bit happy. He looked at Ra's al Ghul, and his expression said all.

"Enough." Ra's al Ghul said, raising a hand. "It is over. Let them pass."

"But master..."

"Let. Them. Pass." Ra's al Ghul repeated, and the ninja immediately did as he was told, prostrating himself in a silent plea for forgiveness. The other ninjas likewise sheathed their weapons and backed off, giving Bruce, Selina, and Batman a clear path out.

"You've made a very dangerous enemy today, Detective."

"I've been doing that for over thirty years." Bruce replied dryly before walking off without another word. Selina and Batman followed, the former pausing only to flip Ra's al Ghul off, a gesture he ostentatiously ignored. Ra's waited until he was sure they were gone before saying: "You can come out now."

Stepping out of the shadows was a man about Bruce Wayne's age wearing a tuxedo...and owl mask.

"It would seem our little trial run was a success." Owlman remarked.

"Yes." Ra's al Ghul said with a nod before turning to face the man who was with him. "But then, you should never have doubted my word."

"I didn't know you."

"No indeed." Ra's acknowledged. "Still, I hope you now recognize that there is nothing to fear from stepping into the Lazarus Pit, if your will is strong enough."

"It is. I just had to make sure there were would be no..._surprises_ in store for me. But now that I know Bruce and Selina could take it, _I_ can as well."

"You know, I did not lie when I said I would have liked to have had Wayne at my side. I think he would have made a fine heir."

"_If _you could have gotten him to come around to your way of thinking. But that was never going to happen. You won't have that problem with me. In my prime I was everything he was in his, except like you I know what needs to be done for this world. You and I think alike."

"This is true."

"You won't regret accepting me as your successor."

"I should hope not. I have time, but even _I_ am not eternal. I _need_ a worthy successor."

"You're about to get one." Owlman said as he took off his tuxedo jacket and shirt and began making his way to the Lazarus Pit. Right before he entered, Ra's al Ghul called out: "You remember the terms of our agreement?"

"I'm old, Demon's Head, not senile. I honor my bargains. I'll marry your daughter, though I don't think she'll want me as a husband."

"That matters not. Talia understands her duties as my daughter. She will honor them..._and_ any marital vows to a husband."

"If you say so. But know that I won't have much love for _her _either."

"No matter. Yours would not be the first loveless marriage of political convenience."

"No, I suppose not."

He stepped into the Lazarus Pit. And when he emerged, Owlman was back in his physical prime, just as much as Bruce Wayne was. Eyes still glowing green from the effects of the pit, he smiled. "I'm back in business. Now to get to work."

**Author's Notes: I recognize that I made Talia more straightforwardly evil than her classic and BtAS versions, but I felt that was necessary. Because classic Talia and modern Catwoman are just way too similar in my opinion. The only way to justify having both is for one to be more evil and the other more good. And there was no question who I was going to pick for each in that case. **


	6. 1980s: Dark Nights of Crisis

_1986_

"Good evening, citizens of Gotham. I'm your host, Jack Ryder. Tonight we've got a very special news program for you all. As you all know, tonight marks the one-year anniversary of the terrible event known only as "The Crisis". That six-month long conflict between the forces of Earth and an extraterrestrial invasion from the Alien Alliance led by the Dominators and Khunds. Many parts of the planet were devastated by the invasion, and some of our world's greatest heroes were lost in the conflict, including Power Woman, the cousin of Superman who was originally the spunky young heroine and teen heartthrob Supergirl. She fought crime alongside her cousin for twenty-six years before giving her life heroically to stop the Dominators and their allies. Also lost were Bartholomew Allen and Oliver Queen, known to the world as the second Flash and first Green Arrow. Tonight we honor these fallen heroes."

"Didn't Aunty Lara used to be Supergirl too?" Asked the extremely cute six-year old boy to his mother, who smiled and nodded. "Yes, Alfie, she was. Now she's Super_woman. _Kara would be proud of her."

"You used to go on adventures with those heroes, right mommy?"

"I never knew Green Arrow or Flash all that well." Helena admitted. "...but I've known their proteges very well. We were all on the same team, you know. The Teen Titans."

"But the new Flash isn't a teenager..."

"No, but he used to be. And so was your mommy. So was _everyone_, at some point or another. And one day, you'll be a teenager too." _And how I am **so **looking forward to those years. _She thought but didn't say.

The boy's face brightened. "I'd like to be on the Teen Titans. I _love_ the Teen Titans! Especially Beast Boy."

"Maybe you will, someday." Helena said. "Now come on, it's getting late. Time to go to bed."

Her son protested, but eventually, Helena Wayne Trevor was able to get her youngest child away from the television and upstairs to his bedroom. She tucked him in, kissed him goodnight, and shut the door. She waited for a while, and then went down to the Batcave.

"Ah, Miss Kyle. Glad to see you've returned..."

"No, Alfred, it's me, Helena."

"Oh, yes, yes. Of course..." Alfred trailed off and fell silent. Helena sighed as she began getting into her costume. Alfred was nearly a hundred years old now, and officially retired from any sort of assistance in matters of crimefighting. Among other things, his mind was no longer quite all there. Dementia hadn't conquered him fully, but he was still far from the combination of razor-sharp wit and MI6 smarts he'd been for most of his youth.

_I've told Dad that Alfred needs to go to a nursing home, but he won't hear of it..._

Helena understood why of course. She understood because on a certain level she felt the same way. Alfred was part of the family, and no one wanted to feel like they were putting him out to pasture. All the same, Alfred didn't have long, and everyone knew it. No one talked about it, but everyone knew it.

Helena sighed as she got into her Huntress costume in full and made her way to her motorcycle. Getting out would be good for her; fighting the criminals of Gotham always helped to clear her head. Especially when she was bringing justice to the heinous Mutants gang.

Driving out of the batcave, Huntress went by so fast that she couldn't make out in detail any of the people who clogged Gotham's streets. And that was just as well, because she didn't want to. Every time Huntress looked at what Gotham City's civilians looked like, every time she saw the despair and hopelessness and feelings of impeding armageddon in their eyes, she felt like she and her family were losing. Or worse, that they had already lost. Under Bruce Wayne, Lincoln March, and others, Gotham City had been turned into a modernized, financially successful metropolis with low crime rates, clean air, and shining skyscrapers to rival those in Metropolis. But over the last few years it had really started to feel like all of the gains that had been made were unraveling. The crime rates had skyrocketed since the 80s started and no one knew exactly why, though different theories abound. Some blamed it on the Cold War anxieties. Others blamed it on the loss of "old values" (whatever that was supposed to mean). And others still turned around and blamed Batman. The hero whose good work had given others hope that Gotham was worth saving after all. None of the good others had done would have been attempted or succeeded without Batman's work. But to those eager for a scapegoat, that didn't matter. They blamed Batman anyway.

_People like the new **Police Commissioner**. _Huntress thought with disgust. The new commissioner Ellen Yindel was young and clearly didn't know her history all that well. If she did, she wouldn't have issued a warrant for Batman's arrest. A warrant that extended to all the other members of the family, Huntress included.

A familiar name came on the police radio: "Attention all units, attention all units. 'Killer Croc' sighted south of Gotham's financial district. Suspect is considered extremely dangerous."

_That's all I needed to hear. _

Turning directions dramatically (and provoking more than a few indignant shouts and horn honks from several cars), Huntress began driving rapidly to the sighting.

_Elsewhere in Gotham_

Another punch and Batman sent the man flying backwards, blood and loose teeth flying through the air. Spinning around, he grabbed and dislocated the arm of the thug who had tried to get him from behind. The man screamed and Batman ignored it, leaving him on the ground writhing in pain. Another thug tried to knife him. Batman let the thug land the stab, useless at it was against his batsuit, and slammed his hands into the sides of the man's head. He screamed and grabbed his ears, but Batman gave him no time to recover. A Muay Thai knee strike to the face finished him.

Turning back to the thug whose arm he'd dislocated, Batman hovered over him: "Listen carefully: I can make you hurt a _lot _worse before you pass out. You've still got three more limbs I can ruin for starters."

"P-please...please don't..."

"Tell me what I want to know, and I won't have to hurt you any more." Batman said simply. "Where's the Joker?"

"Joker? He...ain't he dead? Or locked up?"

"Wrong answer." Batman stepped down hard on the hand opposite the dislocated arm. Hard enough to break the fingers. The man screamed. "Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum two nights ago. Five men are dead now, and a teenager is missing. You're going to tell me where he is. **_Now_**."

"But...but I don't..."

"Wrong answer." Batman repeated, even more icily then the last time. He moved over and stepped on the other hand, again ignoring the scream even as the knowledge of what he was doing made him increasingly sick to his stomach. "If you hold out on me a third time, I start breaking more than just fingers."

"Please! I don't know! I swear!"

"You've been a part of Joker's gang for six years now, Curtis Base." Batman replied coldly.

"He hasn't contacted me since he got out! I swear!"

"I don't believe you."

"I'm telling the truth!" The man said, at this point fairly sobbing.

A Batarang whirled through through the air. Batman whipped around and deflected it with his gauntlet. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting your attention." Returned the voice that sounded so much like his father's. Stepping forwards, Dark Knight stared his father down. Though both men wore all-concealing helmets, Batman still felt his son's judgmental eyes on him.

"Joker has Robin."

"I know. And I'm upset about that too. But we shouldn't torture defeated enemies to get information. We're supposed to be better than that." There was a pause, before Dark Knight added: "_You _taught us that."

Batman thought about that. And he thought to the scene he had left all around him. Savagely beating criminals came with the job, but he did have to acknowledge, if only to himself, that he _had _grown more brutal and vicious of late, and not just because Joker had captured Robin. He had been getting progressively worse over the last few years along with his city it seemed. Was it a side-effect of the Lazarus Pit? Decades of crime fighting and fighting in wars and seeing the worst things people were capable of taking their toll? Or was it both? Neither? Batman didn't know. But perhaps he should take it as a sign that he'd been in the business for too long. It _had _been almost half a century since he'd first become Batman, and it had started to feel like it. Sometimes, it felt longer than that.

"We'll discuss it another time." Batman said finally. "Right now, finding and saving Robin and stopping Joker take priority."

"Don't duck this." Dark Knight said testily. "I'm serious...but, you're right. Robin and Joker are the more urgent concern. But this conversation isn't over."

Batman said nothing. He was just a bit annoyed that his own son was talking to him, his father, as though their relationship was the other way around. But nevertheless, the two of them made their way out and got into their respective waiting vehicles. In Dark Knight's case, his own Batmobile. And in Batman's case...

"...and another thing; we need to talk about the latest batmobile. I mean seriously, it's a_ tank!_"

"We've been over this. It offers maximum armor and maximum firepower. That's good enough for me. I don't need it to look sleek or pretty. Not anymore."

"That's not the point. The point, is that the sight of a large, armored tank studded with weapons rolling down the streets doesn't put people at ease."

"I've _always_ scared people."

"Not like this. I'm telling you, the tank, what happened in there, they're all red flags! You've got to take this seriously, before you end up getting any worse!"

"I'll contact you when I've found clues to Robin and Joker's whereabouts." Batman replied coldly before getting into the Batmobile.

"Oh, no. We're not splitting up on this one. Not after what I saw in there. I'm coming too."

"We'd cover more ground if we split up."

"Sorry, I'm not budging on this. And I'm forty years old, so you can't order me around anymore either."

Batman frowned behind his helmet but decided not to press the matter. Were it anyone but his son and the situation wasn't so urgent, he'd have likely decked him, but he remained silent and drove off, allowing Dark Knight to follow in his own Batmobile. The sight of the two dark vehicles driving by, one an intimidating tank the other a sleek, midnight black vehicle that was stylistically more in line with the models of yesteryear, no doubt got a lot of raised eyebrows and bewildered expressions. As they drove, Dark Knight decided to make an encrypted call to Nightwing. All the Batmobiles and other gear and equipment were Wayne Tech, but Dark Knight was his father's son, and had used his own genius to discreetly alter the Batmobile's communications equipment so that his father couldn't listen in. Of course, knowing his father, Dark Knight figured that Batman knew about this attempt of subterfuge, had found a way to hack it, and was listening in despite Dark Knight's efforts. But to be honest, he barely cared. A part of him actually _hoped_ his father heard it.

"So how's it going over in Bludhaven?"

"_Not well_." Came the voice on the other end. Indeed, Dark Knight could hear sounds of an intense fight going on. "If this is a bad time..."

"_No worse than any other, old friend_." Came the reply as someone's bones broke. Gunfire rang out. "_Relax, DK, I'm fine. What is it?"_

"You sound like you've got your hands full."

A punch. Or was it a kick? A thud. Several grunts. More gunshots. Then silence.

_"Nah, just finishing up."_

"You said things aren't going well over there. I take it...I take it the Titans are still dealing with..."

"_Yeah." _The voice on the other end admitted. "_Yeah, we are. Terra's betrayal hit everyone so hard. Beast Boy especially. I'm trying to hold everyone together, but I'm an old man and it isn't easy. The power-suit Lucius made for me so I could keep going helps, but it's still more of a strain, you know? It's weird; I think I'm stronger in the armor then I was in my prime, but I still feel **weaker. **I'm tired a lot too."_

"Maybe you should quit? You've had a good run, no one would hold it against you."

"_I probably will soon_. _But...not yet. Not when the Titans are at the lowest point they've ever been. They need me...anyway, why did you call? I know it's not just to catch up."_

"It's Bats, NW. He's changed. He's getting worse. I know it, Helena knows it, Selina knows it. He's just gotten a lot more brutal. The worst part is not knowing _why._"

"_He's been at this for almost fifty years, DK. It's hardened him I think._"

"Maybe it was a mistake to put him in the Lazarus Pit all those years ago. Maybe he should have stayed retired. Would have let you stay in the role too."

"_I don't mind being Nightwing instead of Batman. But I won't lie, I'm worried about him too. He's an old soldier, and old soldiers have their scars. He's got more than most."_

"He's been in it too long."

"_Hey, remember who you're talking to, DK. I may not be his age, but I'm pushing sixty. If it weren't for the power-suit I **would** have retired by now."_

"You've always been lighter though. Dad doesn't have that. And after fighting in two wars plus decades of fighting the worst Gotham City has to offer, he's never _going _to have it. I'm telling you, Nightwing, he needs to hang it up."

Suddenly, sounds of gunfire came on again.

_"Damn! Slade's back! __Sorry, BJ, I gotta go. Dealing with Deathstroke always requires a person's full attention. We'll finish this later!"_

And then the communication ended. Dark Knight sighed. _Yeah, sure. No hurry or anything..._

_Gotham's Financial District_

"_Everybody out!" _Roared the fearsome, seven-and-a-half foot tall reptile man as he burst through the doors of the bank, knocking them off their hinges and sending the metal slabs clattering to the floor. Most everyone in the place all at once lost all interest in whatever financial concerns or business they might have been having at that precise moment, if the way they fairly stampeded out of the bank was anything to go by. All gave Killer Croc a wide berth though; he was known to eat people that displeased or irritated him...or even if he was just in the mood for a snack.

"The money. _All of it!_" Croc yelled at the men and women on the other side of the bank, smashing one of the teller desks to splinters with his fists. Then, he thought about it some more, and amended his demand slightly: "Nah, nah, that's dumb. All the money you can fit into your two biggest bags. And trust me, I can carry it all."

One of the bank tellers hit the alarm, but the rest either stayed rooted in place out of sheer, paralyzing terror, or in a few cases, actually assented to the brute's demands. As they were running to and fro to get the money and bags though, Huntress drove in on her motorcycle at that moment, driving into the bank and leaping off her motorcycle just as it rammed into Killer Croc.

The hit staggered Croc, but that was all. Whipping around, he turned just in time to get shot at by the taser-gun Huntress packed. The wires stuck themselves to Croc and the electric shock followed soon after. Croc roared like a dinosaur of old before grabbing the wires and ripping them off. Huntress followed it up with pellets that released a sticky goo on impact that temporarily blinded Croc.

"Damn you!" He shouted, knocking aside her motorcycle with an awkward swing before charging blindly (literally _and _figuratively), at Huntress. Huntress saw it coming and avoided him easily.

"Knocking over a bank, Croc? You really _are _as dumb and uncreative as everyone says."

Croc was too busy tearing at the goo over his eyes to even try a retort. For her part, Huntress was moving in and delivering rapid-fire jabs at the parts of Killer Croc's body that were the softest; the arm pits and the stomach. Croc's hide was tough, but it didn't cover all parts of him equally. Once Croc finally tore the goo off, he drove his fist down, but Huntress back-flipped out of the way, and his fist went deep into the marble tile floor. Ripping it out, Killer Croc ran at Huntress again, and again she avoided him. He was all set to make another attack, when a black whip shot out from behind and wrapped itself around Croc's throat. He gasped mid-roar, his breath suddenly cut off. With a tug, the source of the whip pulled him backwards and closer towards her (no mean feat in itself given that Croc weighed close to 700 pounds), and delivered a leaping kick to the brute's face. The attack staggered Killer Croc yet again, and now both mother and daughter were on him, each aiming for those same less armored parts of his body. It worked wonderfully. It hurt like hell punching and kicking something as big, heavy, and durable as him, but eventually, Catwoman and Huntress brought him down. A lassoed bag filled with gold smashing into Croc's face courtesy of Catwoman served as the final blow.

"You fought well, dear." Catwoman said, choosing to hug Huntress.

"Mom, _not here._" Huntress said, gently pushing her mother off of her. "Besides, I'm not a little girl anymore."

"You're still mine." Catwoman said with a smile. "Now come on, let's get out of here before our 'esteemed' Commissioner Yindel and her bootlickers get here."

"How did you even get in here? I didn't see you come in...wait, what am I saying? You're _Catwoman. _Breaking and entering places is your whole MO."

Catwoman chuckled. "True. Been a _long _time since I've had to break into a bank though. Not since the forties I think. Before I partnered off with your father."

Huntress got back on her bike while Catwoman went to her's, which was waiting outside the bank. They drove off just as the police cars were coming in. They were so close they could hear the shouts to halt, but moments later the heroines had left the police cars far behind. Needing to deal with Killer Croc and the mess at the bank ensured the officers would not be pursuing, which was good. Neither woman was in the mood for yet another chase with Yindel's paper-pushers and greenhorns who were too young to remember the days when Batman was the only thing keeping back a sea of supervillains who were constantly assaulting the city.

Of course, that was still sort of the reality of things. Nearly all of the villains from the old days were dead, or like Scarecrow, had finally retired. But new ones like Killer Croc had just risen up to take their place. There was always more supervillains it seemed.

One particular supervillain though, was still at it. Refusing, it seemed, to die. No matter how old he now was, or how many close calls and apparent deaths he'd had over the decades.

"Still no word on Joker?" Huntress asked her mother, who received her words through the communicator in her ear behind her cat cowl.

"No, I'm afraid not." Catwoman admitted with a sigh, shaking her head as she did. "I've been out for hours and still haven't gotten any closer. Wherever that monster is keeping Robin, he's been covering his tracks very well. We can just hope that your father and brother have better luck."

Had it been something else, Huntress might have quipped that she found the idea of the boys in the family getting all the credit and success distasteful. But not tonight. Not with Robin's life hanging in the balance.

_Dammit, Joker. Where are you? _Huntress thought, all the while thinking about Robin and how she had had a hand in helping to train the young sidekick who had inherited Richard Grayson's old mantle. As a result, Huntress felt responsible for Robin's well-being. If anything terrible were to happen, Huntress would blame herself.

_You can't hide forever, Joker. Not with all of us looking for you. We **will **find you..._

_Somewhere..._

"Ooh! That looked like it _hurt!_" The voice was old at this point, but still filled with sadism and malice.

He swung with his crowbar again, and blood flew out of the mouth of his young captive.

"Ouch! That looked like it hurt even more. How about it, kiddo? Ready to call it quits?"

Robin spat blood at Joker. He chuckled. "Good answer. Truth is, I was going to keep hitting you anyway."

More whacks from the crowbar. Joker did his best to laugh along with the savage beating he was dealing out, but by now his once bloodcurdling cackle had lost some of it's oomph. Not much though.

"Oh, this is _killing _me. I mean, not the way it's killing _you _of course, but still. Will leave quite the mess though. Oh well. The place isn't mine!" Joker laughed again as he continued to beat Robin with the crowbar. "I just hope the rest of the Batty Bunch finds this place in time. I would so hate for them to miss the big finish!"

_Wayne Manor_

It was a somber mood when everyone returned to the Batcave. The sense of failure that all of them felt at having failed to locate Joker and Robin was immense, and Batman felt it worst of all.

"Damn. Why can't I find him!?" Batman snarled, shaking his head. "And to think they call me 'The World's Greatest Detective'."

"Can't solve it if there aren't any clues." Dark Knight pointed out. Unfortunately, that attempt to pacify his father didn't go over well.

"There's _always _a clue!" Batman snapped. "I thought I taught you and your sister that years ago! There's always a clue, but I can't seem to figure it out with what I've been given!"

Catwoman moved in, wrapping her arms around her husband. "Bruce, please. Junior was just trying to help. I care about Robin too, but don't take it out on us."

Batman breathed in deeply and forced himself to regain some semblance of calm. It was harder than it should have been. All those years practicing self-discipline, meditation, and self-control in the East seemed barely useful to him in that moment. Nevertheless, he managed it.

"You're right." He admitted, before continuing: "It's obvious that Joker does not have Robin anywhere in Gotham. All of the obvious hiding places have either been demolished or checked by us. Therefore we can safely assume that Joker has taken Robin out of the city."

"But how will we know where to find him?" Catwoman asked.

Batman thought about it. Then, an idea. He went over to the Batcomputer, and conjured up a map of everything surrounding Gotham for miles. "We can assume that Joker would not have gone too far. He's resourceful, but he doesn't have access to private jets, and in any case I could have tracked the comings and goings of such a plane. No, Joker has likely left Gotham by car. That narrows the range somewhat. He took Robin only last night, and even if he drove all night, he could only have covered so great a distance. That narrows the search further."

"But there are still countless places where he could be." Dark Knight pointed out.

"Not if he wants to avoid being seen and recognized." Batman pointed out. "He would probably use less travelled roads, to decrease the risk of being seen and recognized. We've had no reports of Joker outside of Gotham. Now let's bring up all the remote, out-of-the way places Joker could hide himself and Robin in that are within his ability to reach by car in the last day or so." Batman input said information. It was still a large number of names. Too many to go through one at a time. But as he scanned the names, Batman knew he didn't need to.

"I know where Joker is."

"What? How?" Huntress asked, silently noting that her father's feats of detective skill always impressed her.

"One of the names in New York; it's an old Gall Wine warehouse."

"Gall Wine. Classy, French winery, right?" Catwoman asked. "Some of the stuff in our cellar's from them."

"Exactly." Batman said. "Named after the Roman name for France."

"But what does that have to do with..."

"Think of the initials of New York; NY. Then add the letters of Gall Wine. If you replace the second l with a p, and rearrange them, you get the name 'Gwynplaine'."

Now everyone understood. "Gwynplaine." Huntress repeated. "One of Joker's many aliases over the years."

"Yes. Got it from the Victor Hugo character with a face scarred to look like he's always smiling."

"I always_ did_ think the old black and white movie version looked like Joker." Catwoman noted. "Guess we have our location."

"Yes. Come on. We don't have any time to lose."

_New York_

Joker checked his pocket watch and smiled. "Well, Batsy and his brood should be here fairly soon, knowing him. That means I've gotta to leave you now, kiddo. Heartbreaking, I know. We had _so _much fun together, didn't we?"

There was no response. Joker shrugged and exited, as he did saying: "Hope you enjoy the fireworks! I set them up _just _for you, kid!"

And with the best cackle he could muster in his old age, the Joker exited the warehouse and was gone.

_Gotham City_

As the tank-model Batmobile was much too slow for the long distance drive, Batman instead got into the Batplane and flew it out of the cave through the large entrance facing the waterfall that had been made for it. In the passenger seat was Catwoman, while Dark Knight and Huntress took the former's Batmobile model.

"Told Bruce he should stick with a classic Batmobile instead of that awful tank." Dark Knight said with just a bit of pride as the sleek, black car rocketed out of the cave. Simultaneously, the Batplane flew out and then went high up into the sky, until soon it was right in front of the full moon, creating the image of a giant bat logo in the sky. So striking was the visual, that it got numerous Gothamite's attentions. But as quickly as it appeared, the image ended. The Batplane "fell", leaving it's place in front of the moon before flying off to New York, and more specifically, the direction of the Gall Wine warehouse Batman had identified as the likely place Joker was keeping Robin.

"Bruce..." Catwoman said. "...if Robin isn't there..."

"Then we search the next most likely location. And the next after that." Batman growled, before saying more calmly: "I can't fail Robin, Selina."

"I know how you feel, Bruce. You took that kid in when no one else would. And you did the best you could to make sure this second Robin lived up to the first one. You did what you could. What's happening here isn't your fault."

"Isn't it?" Batman asked as the Bat-Plane continued to fly through the midnight sky like the animal upon which it was modeled. "I've been fighting the Joker for over forty-five years, Selina. And never in that time has any prison been able to hold him. Nor has he stayed dead even when someone or something finally seems to kill him. I just...I just wonder...if _I _did it myself, maybe he'd be dead by now. And the people he's murdered would still be alive."

"Maybe. Or maybe Joker would just cheat death again and come back. You can't know what's going to happen, Bruce. Not always. Maybe you should have killed Joker. But, maybe _I _should have. Or at least tried to. Or maybe Superman should have. Or Diana. Or Green Arrow before he died. We're _all _guilty of holding back, Bruce. And the people seemed fine with that for a while. Now that they're not, we can _all_ be blamed. You don't need to feel solely responsible."

"Maybe. But Joker's my nemesis, Selina. He always has been. I may not have been the only one whose never killed him all these years...but I still can't help but feel some responsibility." A silence fell between the couple as the Batplane finally landed. They exited, and Catwoman said: "This...isn't just about Joker, is it? Bruce...I know you killed in the war."

Batman stopped in his tracks. Selina's words brought back memories he had spent decades trying to bury and forget completely with only limited success. "Not...not now, Selina. Robin needs us."

But no sooner had those words left Batman's lips did the warehouse not that far from their position became consumed in a massive fireball. Debris went flying every which-way, while a column of smoke rose up into the sky. The shockwave of the blast was felt by Batman and Catwoman, but at their distance from the blast it wasn't so hard that they were knocked down by it. Sprinting in the direction of the explosion, Batman and Catwoman abandoned all other thoughts in that moment, including of each-other, and embraced a single-minded drive to get to Robin. Alive or dead, they would not let the teen hero remain in the rubble of a blown out warehouse.

Finally, they reached it. What followed felt like moving through a nightmare, only it was all-too real. There would be no waking up at the last minute. No moment when the brain remembered it was a dream and that waking up was the surefire way to escape whatever horrible fate awaited in the nightmare. No, there would be none of that here.

Pushing through the rubble, and tossing some of it aside, Batman and Catwoman finally came upon Robin's inert body.

"No..."

Catwoman covered her mouth as tears began to come out. Batman rushed forwards until he was standing over the body of his sidekick. Weakly, he held out a hand to Robin's pulse. Nothing. They'd lost. Robin's body was already going cold to the touch...

"...gone."

_One Week Later_

It was a gloomy day when Robin was laid to rest in the same cemetery that already housed the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne, among other departed members of the Wayne family. Bruce stood over the grave long after everyone else had gone. He stared long and hard at the tombstone and what it said:

_Carrie Kelly. _

_1970-1986._

_Forever in our hearts._

"Bruce..."

He didn't turn upon hearing his wife's voice. He just continued to stare.

"I could have saved her, Selina. If I had just figured out where Joker was sooner..."

"This isn't your fault, Bruce. It's Joker's. No one else's."

Bruce shut his eyes tightly. "You're right. And he needs to pay for it."

Selina didn't fail to notice how Bruce said that. Had it been with any other criminal she might have been concerned, but the honest truth was, that as it was Joker a part of her really wanted to see her husband be the one to end that monster's reign of terror once and for all. Being even more honest, Selina was of a good mind to pull the trigger herself.

_The poor girl...she wasn't even eighteen._

The tense moment was interrupted by the arrival of Bruce Wayne Jr. and Helena Wayne. "Dad. You need to come in and see this."

The urgency in his tone got Bruce and Selina inside immediately. They went into the room that housed the television, and saw what was on the news at that moment:

"...Barbara Gordon, James Gordon's daughter, was shot. She's been rushed to the hospital. No word yet on her condition, or where her father James Gordon is. But our sources on the scene tell us that the Joker and his gang were responsible..."

The moment those words had been said Bruce was heading straight towards the Batcave. His wife and children pursued, but he had taken the elevator down before they could reach him.

"Damn." Helena cursed.

"We knew this might happen." BJ pointed out. "Ever since Carrie died. That's why we locked him out of everything in the Cave. He can't use any of the suits. They won't open for him."

"Unless..." Selina muttered. "...unless he anticipated that we'd do that."

There was a moment of silence between all three of them. Then...

"...shit."

_A forgotten carnival_

"I just want you to know, Commish, I really miss the days when you were running the show down at the old pig farm. Heh. Get it?"

Joker got no response. The stripped and beaten James Gordon was too injured, and too traumatized from his daughter being shot, to pay attention to Joker's sadistic commentary. "...I mean, none of the other Police Commissioners were the same. None of them could ever quite manage to pull off the shocked, stupid look on their face whenever I outsmarted them that _you _could. Besides, you remind me of the good old days. Back when I was a lot more spry. Not like now."

"What am I doing here?" Gordon finally asked weakly.

"Doing? Well, to start, going absolutely mad. What most sensible people in your appalling circumstances would do, after all. And along the way, help me with my last big crime. And then after _that, _if we're lucky, you die a horrible, painful death! Of course, if that last one happens _first, _that's OK too! I'm not picky about the details this time." Joker laughed again as his men finished setting Gordon up on a carnival car that began to slowly move along the tracks.

"Attention, passengers! This is your esteemed host speaking: the ride you're about to go on is quite taxing. Not at all for the faint of heart. So remember to keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times, and your minds ripe for horrible molestation! Oh, and just remember; if something bad happens, the park disclaims all responsibility! Heh, heh, heh. Enjoy!"

The car rode all the way in, vanishing into the black mouth of the entrance. And all the while, a watching Joker's smile grew wider and wider.

_Elsewhere_

With the Batcave locked down, Batman had barely managed to exit by leaping out of the Batplane entrance and down the waterfall. From that height, hitting the water would have been decidedly painful. But then, that was what the glider cape was for.

Soaring over the waters and into the woods that the manor overlooked, Batman landed and darted off. Finding a parked motorcycle without too much difficulty, he got on it and drove off, cape billowing in the wind all the while.

Selina had been half-right about him forseeing their trying to lock him out of his suits for fear he'd do something rash. He actually hadn't quite expected that (even though he figured he should have), but he _had _kept a batsuit hidden away in a special nook in the cave that only he knew about in the event that he was locked out due to a malfunction in the cave's security system. Said suit was compact so it could be stored and hidden easily, which meant it was far less well armored. It was mostly gray, save for black boots, gloves with arm blades, bat symbol, and of course, pointy eared cowl and scalloped cape. The bat symbol for this one was much "fatter" then most, a design feature intended to draw attention to it, and with it gunfire. Because that was where the armor in this suit was. He would have preferred one of his fully armored suits obviously, but this would have to do.

_Besides, I've grown too reliant on the armored suits over the years. _

Faster and faster Batman drove, all the while knowing that his wife and children would soon be in pursuit, and that on a common motorcyle he hadn't a prayer of outrunning them in the Batmobile or on the motorcycles Selina and Helena used. So he'd just have to make sure they didn't find him.

He took out-of-the-way paths and alternated his course regularly, zigzagging often so that he could not be easily tracked. Through police chatter, he had an idea where Joker was. He also knew he needed to get there before the police did. Had to get there before they all did.

_The Joker is **mine.**_

Finally, Batman's desperate drive came to an end. Just as well, as the motorcycle had run out of gas from the intense drive all the way out to the carnival that now stood before him. It had been a halfway decent place once, back in the fifties or so. The original Amusement Mile had been demolished long ago, tainted by association with the Joker as it had become. But an undeterred Joker had simply made other carnivals in Gotham his new lairs, and so finally Gotham just stopped building them. If you wanted to go to the fair, you went to one in Metropolis. The one here had been one of the last. Now it stood abandoned, fading into ruin and becoming the total opposite of what a carnival was meant to be.

But then, that was always how it was when Joker was done with them.

Batman raced into the carnival. He didn't get far before he ran into several of Joker's henchmen, these ones fitting various sideshow freak stereotypes, such as the dwarf and the fat lady. They went down to a punch each. Even the strongman done up in Joker's face paint.

Eventually, Batman came to a tracks with carnival cars just as it began to rain. Running over to it, he inspected them one by one until, finally, he entered a tunnel. And then he saw them:

Terrible, obscene photos of Barbara Gordon lying on a carpet, bleeding from the gunshot wound dealt to her. The twisted, terrible position of her body and the look on her face made for horrible sights. Made worse by how, as the photos progressed, her clothes were taken off bit by bit, until finally she was nude. Many of these were in close-ups.

"Quite the gallery, don't you think, Bats?" Came Joker's voice over the old radios that still worked. "Personally, I found Miss Gordon a delightful subject. _So _photogenic. Granted, I probably went overboard with the number of photos, but I mean really, who can blame me?" Joker laughed before the radio transmission abruptly ended. Racing forwards out of the tunnel, Batman saw that the cars had come to a stop. And in one of them was a devastating sight.

"Jim..."

Batman raced to his side and felt his pulse. And, as had been the case with Robin, he found to his horror that there wasn't one.

"No..."

He fell to his knees. He'd failed again. Within a single week, Joker had taken two people he loved from him, and left a third at death's door. As the enormity of that sank in, and threatened to subsume him utterly as the ocean kills a man who cannot swim, he heard Joker's voice over the radios again: "Oh, yes. I think I forgot to mention that Old Jimbo's heart gave out. Whoopsie. Heh. Poor geezer couldn't take the shock and trauma of it all. At least, that's my guess. After all, I'm not a doctor. Ha, ha, ha!"

That laugh. That hideous, awful laugh. It rang in Batman's head like a mad jingle. Like a ringing bell sounding out a call for death and madness. That was what Joker was. All that he was, and all he brought; death and madness.

_No more..._

In that moment, Batman thought back again to his memories of the second World War. Of the battlefields in Europe. In the Pacific. Of what he'd had to do there. He had hated it utterly. But it had been necessary then. And it was necessary now.

_No more..._

Rising up slowly, Batman saw some of Joker's men come at him. One of them had a gun...

In an instant, Batman was on the move. Faster than usual, and when he hit it was with enough force to break the man's jaw. Batman watched him fall without pity before going after the second one. He too fell with bone-breaking brutality. And then, Batman saw the discarded gun lying on the ground.

"No more..." he whispered.

Joker's voice came on over the radio again: "You know, Batsy, I figure now's as good a time as any to tell you; I'm dying. Just at that age, you see. Doctor gave me a few months or so. So I figured that I'd go out on a high note before tapping out. I'm sure you understand. It's...nothing personal."

Batman kept running, now singleminded in his drive to find Joker. He knew it would have to be some place far away from the radios. Otherwise, why use them? So he went to the places farthest from the radios, beginning with an abandoned Ferris wheel.

"Oh, who am I kidding? Of _course _it's personal!"

Maniacal laughter followed, before the Ferris wheel's hinges were blown off, causing the wheel to become disconnected and fall. Batman got clear just in time, and went straight for the next probable location. He wasn't disappointed. Standing there, outside the entrance to the Tunnel of Love, was the Joker, now clad in an all white tuxedo instead of his usual purple.

"Glad you made it, Batsy. I did_ so_ want you to-"

Batman cut him off by throwing a batarang right at his head. Joker managed to move his arm in its path and it embedded itself in him. "Ah! No fair, Bats! You have to at least let me finish my big speech! It's just a professional courtesy!"

Batman ran at him, and Joker fled deep into the Tunnel of Love. But, being a seventy-something being chased by a Batman who thanks to the Lazarus Pit dip from fifteen years prior was back in top physical form, he didn't get far.

Batman tackled him and drove him deep into the waters.

"No more!" Batman shouted, as he began savagely punching his hated foe over and over and over again. "No more! **_No more!_**"

Chuckling as he spat out water and blood, Joker mumbled: "Heh...never seen you...this worked up, Batsy. I have to say...I kind of like it. Maybe I should have done something like this years ag-"

There was a clicking sound that cut Joker off. The click of a _gun_. Looking up, Joker saw that Batman had the gun he'd taken from one of Joker's men leveled at him.

"...oh. _Now _we're talking!"

_Wayne Manor_

Alfred had silently watched Catwoman, Dark Knight, and Huntress leave in pursuit of the man they all loved and hoped to keep from murdering out of grief and rage. He loved him too, of course. Albeit in a different way. He had never admitted it outright, as he did not wish to do Thomas Wayne or his memory a disservice, but...

_It hurts to see my son suffer so._

Alfred had tried his best to help him over the years. In every way he could. Whether it was providing medical aid, serving as his eyes and ears from the Batcave, or most important of all, emotional and moral support, Alfred had done his best to help over the decades. Decades. It was sometimes hard to believe it had been that long.

_And yet...sometimes he still seems like that scared, hurt child I helped raise..._

But, Alfred knew then as now that there were limits to what he could do for him. He could heal his physical wounds perfectly, but never his emotional ones. He could assist him in his crimefighting, but never in the field. No, Alfred had his limitations. He had never complained about it though. He knew his duty and knew what his role was. And he filled it with distinction. That was all he _could _do, in the end. All anyone expected of him.

_Ah, Master Bruce. I do wish you had found your peace and kept it. But I always knew that could never totally happen._

But, as he continued to sit there, Alfred reasoned that, in the end, it was naive of him to expect such a thing. Life wasn't all one way or the other except in the most extreme of cases. Bruce's life, even at it's most happy and hopeful, had had its darkness to balance it. Those years when he and Selina's children were still children had been the happiest, but the memories of the war had served as dark clouds in otherwise perfect summer days. Conversely, the years when he and Selina were separated and their children all grown up were harder, but Bruce could at least be proud of what he'd done for Gotham. No, there was no such thing as an all good or all bad period.

_I just wish...I wish I could have been there for all of it._

Alfred smiled wearily. He supposed that was every father's wish, in the end. Thomas' included.

_Whatever happens going forwards, Master Bruce...I hope the happiness will outweigh the tragedy._

He felt the sharp tingle up his spine so quickly. Closing his eyes, he accepted what came next, and was glad that none of them were there to witness it.

_...how utterly proper._

_The Carnival_

The sound of a gunshot quickened the running of Catwoman, Huntress, and Dark Knight as they raced to the source of it. Arriving at the entrance of the Tunnel of Love, they saw Batman stride out, gun in hand, and grim look on his face.

"Bruce..." Selina whispered. "...you...?"

"No." Batman said. "I shot him in the leg. Non-fatal shot, but it will hurt just the same. I didn't kill him, Selina. But I also didn't spare him for the reason you think."

"Then why?"

"Because he's going to die soon anyway. He said so, and I believe him. I could tell just by looking at him. The gunshot wound he now has will only quicken it."

"So...if he wasn't already dying, you'd..."

"Yes."

There was a long, tense silence between all of them. Dropping the gun, Batman walked up to Dark Knight: "Junior...I know you've always been in my shadow. And I know you've always wanted to be me. Well, now's your chance."

"What...?"

"I'm done after tonight. You were right about me, Junior. About how I've been getting worse. And after this...I can't. I won't. I'm not going to wear this cowl again. It's yours now, son. Wear it well."

The sounds of policemen running towards the scene got everyone's attention. "Come on. Let's go home."

_Elsewhere, Three Days Later_

"The Joker is dead. I checked myself." Then, with just a hint of sadistic pleasure, Aion added: "And I slit his throat before I left just to make sure."

"Truth be told, he's cheated death so many times I wouldn't be surprised if he bounces back from that too." Owlman said, shaking his head. "But, the clown served his purpose in my designs. It's now time to move forward."

"Agreed, master. Gotham is vulnerable now..."

"Perhaps, but the League has designs that go beyond just one city. I know you're spoiling for a rematch with your father and siblings, Aion, but the time for that is not now." He paused, then asked: "Did you...retrieve the girl's body?"

Aion nodded. "Yes. And we have a Lazarus Pit prepared."

"Excellent. She'll serve us well, I think. Once she's been properly trained and reconditioned."

"She's not the only one who will serve you well, husband." Came a familiar voice. Owlman and Aion turned to see Talia step out of the shadows and reveal herself. She walked up to Owlman. "Our son's training already progresses at a remarkable speed. Not yet a teenager and already showing incredible promise."

"And you're surprised?" Owlman asked. Talia smiled. "Of course not, husband. Not with such superior parentage as what the two of us provide." She looked over her shoulder: "You may come out now, my son."

A physically fit soon to be thirteen year old stepped out of the shadows. Walking up to his parents, he genuflected. "My training goes well, father. Mother is a fine teacher. As are Ubu and Shiva."

"Yes, your mother reported as much. Tell me, Corvinus; have you decided on a name to use when in the field?"

Corvinus nodded. "Yes, father. I've been reading heavily into Greek Mythology. In particular the legends of the titans who ruled before the Olympian God's ascendance. And I think I like the sound of the name..._Prometheus_."


	7. 1990s: Heroes rise and fall

_1993_

A battered, armored form hit the ground with a thud. The form in question, a man, felt another bone crack.

"_Damn it, BJ, **get out of there!**_" The voice of his off-field ally screamed in his ear through the radio in his helmet. "_He's too strong for you!"_

"Yeah...I'm sort of getting that vibe, Oracle." Batman acknowledged as he tried desperately to get to his feet. Walking towards him slowly but purposefully, was his opponent. He was a mountain of a man, with incredible muscles and wearing black clothing that left a good part of his torso bare, including the arms. A metal device was worn over one wrist, and connected to it was a tube that pumped a green liquid into his body through the neck, which was where the other end of the tube was. Over his face he wore a black mask with a white front.

What his real name was, no one knew. But to everyone in Gotham, he was known by a simple, ominous alias: Bane.

"I must say, I expected..._better, _Batman."

"_Why isn't your wife here?" _Oracle demanded. "_You know, the one who can pick up ocean liners and break the sound barrier without even trying?"_

"She, her dad, _and _the twins are all off in space right now along with most of the other Justice Leaguers. They're fighting some monster called 'Solaris' or something." Batman said. He tried to force himself up, but the bones he'd broken made that difficult. And all the while, Bane got closer and closer.

"You have proven a rather disappointing foe. But then, you are not really the Batman of old, are you? No, of course not. No man is fit that long. You are a successor. An imitation, and a pale one at that." From a pouch on his belt, Bane took out what Batman realized was a detonator. Quickly, he drew a batarang and hurled it. But injured as he was, he couldn't throw it as quickly as he wanted, and Bane saw the move coming in any case, moving the detonator out of the way.

"No, no, Batman. You will not prevent Gotham's reckoning. This great city you and your predecessors have long defended will be brought down."

"Gotham's heard it all before, Bane." Batman said defiantly. "It will survive you, just as it's survived every other supervillain whose tried to destroy it."

"Perhaps. But then again..." Bane pressed the button on the detonator. "...perhaps not."

Moments, explosions rang out, the shockwaves of them ripping through all of Gotham. Looking out into the distance, Batman could see where the explosions were.

"No...the bridges..."

"Destroyed. All of them. Gotham City is now cut off from the outside world. How long do you think it will last, this great city of yours? Now that it must fend for itself? With no assistance from anyone else? Will it survive then? Or will it's people _turn_ on each-other in a desperate bid for survival? The latter, I think. These people have grown soft since the days Gotham was hell on Earth. Now, we shall return it to that state."

"Who's 'we'?"

"You think I did this alone? _No_. I am part of something greater, Batman."

"Why do this, Bane? What has Gotham ever done to you?"

"To me? Nothing. I came here simply to face this city's champion. It is my associates who have quarrel with this city. I simply carry out their desires."

"Like hired muscle, huh? Should have guessed." Batman rose up fully. It did him no good. Bane was on him in an instant, moving faster than a man of his size ought to. He hit Batman in his helmeted head hard enough to crack the face-plate, and Batman fell once more. Then, Bane grabbed him, and hoisted him over his head.

"Look out now at the city you and your predecessors have fought so hard to protect, Batman. See it as it is in it's last moments...before despair engulfs it."

The last thing Batman was aware of was immense, indescribable pain, and a hideous crunching and snapping sound.

_Grasse, Cannes, Two Weeks Later_

Ever since their dip into the Lazarus Pit in 1971, Bruce and Selina had allowed themselves to disappear completely from public view. After all, they would have no way of easily explaining how they had suddenly been returned to their physical primes. So they kept out of sight and let the world think what it would about them and what had happened to them. And after that dreadful night seven years ago, they had decided to put some distance between themselves and Gotham. Bruce didn't much care where specifically, but Selina knew what she liked. She picked a place in France. Not just any old place though; somewhere out in the countryside, where there were still rolling green hills and where nature hadn't been _completely_ overtaken by civilization.

Of course, cultivated farmland wasn't really "natural" either, but nevertheless, Bruce and Selina, under their aliases of Adam Keaton and Julie Pfeiffer, were content where they were. Here, in the beauty of it, with his wife always with him, Bruce could try to forget all the darkness he had left behind in Gotham City. He could try.

_Nightmares and ghosts aren't escaped from easily. But this place...it helps. _Bruce allowed himself the very faintest and saddest of smiles. _At least it's sunnier here than it is in Gotham. _

"I think my gray hair's coming back." Selina said, shaking Bruce out of his reverie. He shrugged. "_I_ won't be crying when mine come back. I'm not afraid of aging."

"Well, circumstances aside, I enjoyed getting to be young a second time. I think it was a gift. One most people don't get."

"It had it's uses."

"It certainly did." Selina said, smile widening. "And I don't mean the costumed stuff either."

Bruce had to fight fairly hard to suppress a smile as he recalled those special moments between them. Nevertheless, he at least gave his wife the satisfaction of admitting he'd enjoyed it too. "Yes, you're right about that." He looked out at the field in front of them as they continued to enjoy their picnic. Selina took notice of the faraway look in his eyes and smiled. "I told you I picked a good place to go to. God only knows what you would have chosen if I'd let you."

"It _is _nice, Selina. But..."

"Ugh, there it is. 'But'. How I hate that word sometimes. Especially when you use it. What is it?"

"I don't know." Bruce admitted. "Just...just a foreboding that I'm feeling. Old instincts and habits I suppose."

"Well, there's no need for them here, Bruce. We're not in Gotham anymore. You don't need to always be so tense. Always looking over your shoulder. It isn't necessary anymore."

"I wish I could believe that, Selina." Bruce said. "But I've been around too long."

Selina pulled Bruce closer to her and hugged him tightly. "It's alright, Bruce. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Selina." Bruce returned with a smile. Selina grinned and they kissed. And for a few more moments, Bruce _was _able to let it all go; the foreboding, the anxiety, the baggage he'd accumulated over half a century. There, in that rare moment of bliss when it was just him, his wife and what they had between them, Bruce was able to feel halfway like a normal, content human being. He took advantage.

But, these moments were fleeting and precious for a reason. Because it was not long after the two's moment of intimacy that a figure walked up over the hill and approached them. Sitting up, Bruce and Selina saw that it was their daughter.

"Helena!" Selina exclaimed. Getting up, she ran up to her and hugged her tightly.

"It's good to see you, mom." Helena said, returning the hug. But Selina could tell that her daughter was not happy. She felt it when they hugged, and could see it on her face. "What is it?"

"This...this isn't a social visit." Helena began. "It's about BJ. Something's happened to him. _And _to Gotham."

_Wayne Manor, the Batcave_

"You're out of your mind, Richard." Oracle admonished as she wheeled up to her husband's side. "You _and _Tim. BJ needs to go to a hospital. A _real _hospital."

"You know why we can't do that, Barbara." Richard said, as he did continuing to use what medical skills Alfred, Bruce, and Leslie had taught him over the years along with the Batcave's resources, to tend to Bruce Wayne Jr.'s still broken back. It was slow going, but then, there was no guarantee that such a severe injury would heal at all. All Richard Grayson could hope for was that what he knew would be enough to see to it that it would.

"Damn it, Richard, don't be a fool! When _I _was shot, I went to a hospital! I would have died otherwise!"

"You were _also _retired by then, so you weren't putting your secret in danger. And it isn't just BJ's secret that's on the line! If he goes, we _all _do! Helena, me, Bruce, _all_ of us! Not to mention Lucius too for all the tech he's given us over the years. And he wouldn't be the only one either. Face it, Barbara; this is bigger than just one man and his mask; the secret identity of Batman _needs _to be preserved if it's at all possible."

"Key words there." Oracle returned, frowning. "What if it's _not _possible this time? BJ will die if he doesn't get the help of a proper hospital."

"You don't know that."

"You're not Alfred, Richard!" Oracle snapped, before adding just as passionately: "And he couldn't have helped BJ either!"

As soon as these words left Oracle's mouth, she regretted them. Thoughts of the departed man they'd all loved like a grandfather came flooding to the forefront of her mind and she had to fight back tears. "Richard...I...I'm sorry..."

Richard put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "It's OK. I miss him too. Not a day goes by that I don't look to his wisdom for guidance." They paused, then Richard said: "I've contacted Doctor Midnite of the JSA. If anyone can help BJ to recover, it's him. And he's one of us, so I trust him with BJ's secret and ours."

Oracle sighed but nevertheless nodded. "Alright, Richard. We'll do it your way. But there is another issue..."

"...who will protect Gotham while BJ's recovering." Richard nodded. "I thought about that too. I'm too old now, obviously. Power armor or no power armor. Helena's gone looking for Bruce..."

"You can't seriously suggest he be Batman again..."

"Well, he should come back either way. It's his son on an operating table, and we could use his experience to help us, whether he puts on the batsuit again or not. As for a fill-in for BJ...there is one man I can think of."

"Who?"

"I think you know him; he showed up in Gotham late last year and has already been making a name for himself. I've seen him in action and he's definitely got the fighting skills for it."

Oracle frowned. "I _do_ know who you're talking about. Azrael. I'm not sure, Richard. There's more to Batman than just fighting ability. You of all people know that. Besides, we don't know anything about him."

"_I_ do. He doesn't know it, but I've been keeping tabs on him. I know his real name is Jean Paul Valley. I know he's a university student here. And I know that a group known as the Order of Saint Dumas has an interest in him. I've been helping him with that last one."

"Have you...have you been planning this?" Oracle asked. Richard made a point of ignoring the slight edge of disgust in her tone and responded evenly: "Yes. I may not be one to talk, but BJ's not a young man anymore. Even if something like what's happened with Bane didn't happen, there would be a need for a fourth Batman eventually. So yes, I went looking for suitable candidates."

"If anyone deserves to wear that suit after BJ, it's Tim."

"I agree, but he's not old enough yet. Either way, we need someone to fill the role _now_. And I think Azrael's our man."

As if merely mentioning his name summoned him, the door of the Batcave's primary elevator opened, and out came Tim Drake, latest bearer of the Robin mantle and partner-in-crimefighting to Bruce Wayne Jr.'s Batman.

"How is he?" Tim asked.

"Still out, and still recovering slowly." Oracle said sadly. "It's only been two weeks, Tim. Most people who suffer injuries like this take years to heal...or they don't heal at all."

"Bruce isn't most people. He'll pull through. In the meantime..." Tim sighed. "It's getting worse out there. And Steph and I can't do it all on our own."

"You may not need to for much longer. I've found someone who I think can fill the role of Batman, at least temporarily."

"Who...? That Azrael guy?"

Richard smiled. "I'm impressed you guessed it that quick. I think that's a new record for you."

Tim shrugged. "It wasn't _that _hard to guess. There aren't that many people in Gotham who could even come close to filling those boots. Have you approached him yet?"

"I'm going to soon."

"That could be dangerous. I told you, it's getting worse out there. It's not safe to be out and about unless you're wearing a costume and have the training to go with it. And I know you're the most senior person here regarding the spandex life, but you're also sixty five years old. _Not_ the optimal state to be in when navigating what Gotham's become."

"Way ahead of you, Tim. I've got contacts in this city. They'll be sending the message to Azrael that I want to meet with him. And there are still places in Gotham where we can do that safely and discreetly. Then I'll bring him here."

"I could meet with him instead..."

"No, it needs to be me. I'm the one whose reached out to him and earned his trust. Relax, Tim. I can still drive the Batmobile as well as I did when it was _me_ in the batsuit. I'll be fine."

"Remember what they say about tempting fate." Tim said, shaking his head. "Anyway, I have to get out there again. We've got the Scarecrows trying to pump fear toxin into what few clean, uncontaminated water supplies remain in public hands. Plus KGBeast and his Reds tearing up the south quadrant in their fights for control with Black Mask. And don't even get me started on what Harley Quinn is doing."

"What about Poison Ivy?" Richard asked.

"She's still keeping quiet in that garden she's made for herself. So long as that remains the case, I'm content to ignore her. I even hear she's been sheltering children and teens left homeless by the disaster. That gets my vote. I'm focusing on the Scarecrows. KGBeast and Black Mask can keep each-other busy for now. I can't let the Scarecrows ruin what water is still safely in civilian hands."

"Agreed." Richard said.

The Scarecrows were a gang of crooks whose masks and use of Fear Gas, along with their sadistic obsession with fear, were all clear-cut homages to the original. Jonathan Crane was dead now, and had been retired and serving out multiple life sentences for years before that, but by then the damage was done. Like the other great arch-villains of the early days (all of whom were also dead by this point, save for one), he had created a legacy that modern criminals were tripping over themselves to imitate. Some did it better than others. The Scarecrows, to everyone's regret, were one of the more successful copycats.

Tim suited up into his Robin costume, got on his personal, sleek red motorcycle, and drove out of the Batcave, and off into the No Man's Land that Gotham City had become.

_Gotham City, Somewhere_

From his current hiding place in the city he had helped to ruin, Bane observed the burning and smoking ruins of buildings, the destroyed bridges, and the general scene of despair, anarchy, and sheer lawlessness with neither pride nor shame. He was simply doing what had to be done. He understood that. And so did the man who watched at his side.

"You've done well, my friend." Owlman said, stepping forward to stand alongside him.

"Thank you." Bane replied, not turning to face him. "Though I confess to still being...unsatisfied with my victory over Batman. He did not offer the challenge I had hoped for."

"He's past his prime, my friend. And you _did _rather tax his stamina making him chase down all those other criminals before he fought you. You ought not to be surprised that he didn't put up much of a fight."

"Pah. He's not the original anyway. The first Batman is still out there, somewhere. _He _would be a challenge truly worthy of my skills."

"You'll get your chance." Owlman replied. "You and my son. His too, actually. I've debated whether I should let him be the one to deal the fatal blow or my own son. I confess the former is more appealing to me, but no matter. He will return. The news of what we have done here will reach him eventually, I'm sure of that. However much he and his strumpet may want to disappear from the world, they will not be able to turn their backs on this city they've spent decades defending. They just don't have it in them to do that. They'll come back. They can't help themselves." Owlman paused, as he looked out at Gotham alongside Bane. Silently he took in parts of the city one by one, as he did noting how it was all falling away; newer buildings and decades-old ones alike. All of Gotham as it had been was being swept away, so that something better could be sown in the earth to rise in it's place. It was, Owlman thought, very much like a volcanic eruption; destructive, but the soil left behind was fertile and ideal for growing something new.

"Would you believe that it's been over fifty years since I began it all?" Owlman asked. "I've been working so long to make this city make my own. With what we've done, the last of the old will finally be swept away, and the transformation of Gotham City will be complete."

Bane nodded. He'd heard speeches like this from Owlman many times before, and so they no longer made much of an impact on him. He dared not complain or deride however; he owed Owlman and the League of Assassins everything; it was they who liberated him from the prison he had spent his entire life in up to that point. For this service, Bane pledged loyalty. Within certain reasonable restrictions of course, but Owlman understood this, and so the two had worked together well. First in Bane's native Santa Prisca, and now here in Owlman's native Gotham.

"What drives a man to hate a city so?" Bane wondered aloud. He had wondered it many times silently, but now that they were basking in their victory over Gotham and it's defender, Bane decided now was as good a time as any to pose the question directly.

"Hate? No, no, not hate. Gotham is my home, Bane. And like anyone who loves their home, I wish to see it become better. I wish to see it free of the hypocrisies, corruption, and the apathy that shaped my childhood. I wish to see it as I know it _should_ be. A city where all is as I will it. Where all on both sides of the law are ultimately mine, and their agendas, mine. The Gotham of today and the Gotham of my childhood will never again be one in the same."

Bane didn't pry further. There was clearly some terrible tragedy in that childhood Owlman had mentioned, much as Bane himself had had a miserable go of it as a boy. But that knowledge ensured that Bane respectfully did not inquire. Let Owlman keep his own tragedies and share them only as he would. Brutal as he was, Bane still saw himself as a man of honor and class...when he wasn't breaking people's necks that is.

"How long do you think we will wait?" Bane asked.

"Oh, not long. Not long at all. Even allowing for the slowness of travel, our guests of honor should be coming within a fortnight."

_Grasse, Cannes_

Deep down, Bruce had always known he would return to Gotham eventually.

Even after what happened seven years ago, where he lost his two oldest and greatest allies on the same day, one to the Joker and the other to a stroke, Bruce knew his self-imposed exile would not be permanent. He was a son of Gotham, and he had given his blood, sweat, and soul to the city for decades. He would return one day, if only to die there. It was his home, no matter how he felt about it or how many painful memories were still there. And now, in the face of what his daughter had told him, he knew he had to return immediately.

"Bruce, _please_ tell me you're not going to be Batman again."

"You heard what Helena said." Bruce replied as he continued to pack for the trip back. "Our son's back is broken. He's in a coma and may never walk again even if he survives. In the meantime, there _needs_ to be a Batman in Gotham."

"Bruce, the whole reason we left was to put all that behind us!"

"I _know_ that, Selina. But I hadn't counted on something like what's happened happening. Batman is more than a set of armor and a cape, he's a _symbol. _And Gotham needs that symbol now more than it has in years. Without it, Gotham's people will fail."

"Will they?" Selina countered with a raised eyebrow and just the right amount of edge in her tone. "Maybe this is Gotham's chance to prove it can succeed _without _Batman looking after them. What if Batman's just a crutch to them now? Maybe now in this moment of crisis they need to prove they can survive."

Bruce considered that. Truth be told, it was something he had often thought about over the years, and especially in his years of retirement with Selina in France. Batman had done so much good for Gotham, no doubt about it. But had he not also left the people of his city overly reliant on him? Had his constant vigilance and aid served to coddle Gotham's citizens, and leave them unable to help themselves? Moreover, did it not also prove that, in the end, Bruce didn't actually trust Gotham's people to do the right thing without him?

_I don't know. _Bruce silently admitted to himself. _Maybe. Maybe on that level at least, Luthor was right about us. Maybe we did make people too dependent on us. But then, most people can't handle the likes of Despero or Mongul. Or even Joker._

Finally, Bruce said: "Selina...what Helena said...what's happening in Gotham...this isn't an ordinary crisis. It's the worst thing Gotham's seen in years. If ever there's a time for Batman to be there, it's now."

"But can you really get back into that suit?" Selina pressed. "After what happened?" Sighing, she added: "Don't you remember _why _you decided to give it up?"

"I do remember. But whether I become Batman again or not...our son needs us. And so does our city."

Selina hugged him. "I know, Bruce." They kissed each-other, and she chuckled. "You always did encourage the best in me."

"It didn't need much encouraging. You've always cared, Selina. However much you tried to hide it."

"I love you, Bruce."

"I love you too, Selina."

She took a deep breath. "Alright. I'm ready to go back. And no matter what happens...I'll stand by you." She smirked. "Just don't expect me to be Catwoman again. It's fun when young, not so much when you're physically in your fifties."

"Glad to hear you're ready. I've got the plane ready to take us back."

"A private jet?" Bruce asked.

"Of course not, you taught me better than that, dad. It's a less glamorous plane. The kind they use on military stealth ops, which is essentially what this is. Now come on. The sooner we get back to Gotham, the better." Then, adding in a more subdued voice: "Thank God my husband and the rest of the Leaguers still on planet are keeping non-Gotham supervillains out of the city..."

_Gotham City_

One last kick to the face, and the last of the Scarecrows lay sprawling unconscious on the floor. Satisfied with this, Robin twirled his metal bo staff and surveyed the scene before him. Thankfully, all of the canisters of fear toxin lay there, intact and unopened. He'd gotten them before they could contaminate any more of the water.

"Spoiler, I've taken out the Scarecrows at the Western reservoir. You finished over at the eastern one?"

"_Copy that._" Came the voice on the other end of the communicator. "_Caught one of them who broke off from the rest. He tried to activate the canister in the middle of a crowd but I stopped him in time. I think we're good for now."_

"In that case, meet up with me at our usual rendezvous location."

"_We heading back to the cave?"_

"Not yet. There's something we've got to do first."

Robin ended the communication and began navigating the buildings of Gotham City, which were becoming increasingly abandoned, bombed out, looted, and dilapidated. Most people tried to stay off the streets, but even so, many buildings had become unsafe in the face of the wave of violence that had ensued after Gotham became cut off from the outside world. Not helped by the tremors that had rocked the city shortly after the bomb detonations, the_ other_ part of Bane's effort to drag Gotham City into hell. And it worked all too well; with each tremor more buildings fell into ruin, came apart, or were rendered too hazardous to remain in. With each tremor Gotham's already shell-shocked populace was left even more battered and vulnerable. And all the while, the unscrupulous, never in short supply in a place like Gotham, took full advantage of the chaos.

_Sure does make a superhero feel that much better about beating them senseless when they respond to an unprecedented crisis by forcing people to kill each-other._ Robin thought with disgust. _**Or** become slave laborers for cans of beans and bottles of clean water. _

No, the unscrupulous were never a rare sight in Gotham City. What had happened had just served to embolden them, plus bring out the worst in others. Every time Robin saw civilians turn on each-other and engage in vicious, cynical, "every man for himself" brutality, his heart sank even lower. But it _also_ drove him to keep fighting. If ever there was a time when Gotham needed colorful, costumed, uncynical champions of good to believe in, it was now.

Finally, after stopping to break up some muggings, shootouts, and at least one attempted rape, Robin met up with Spoiler, and the two took their motorcycles to a more remote part of the city. It was a place that at a glance seemed innocuous. But this was a classic case of the old cliche about appearances being deceiving. Inside this seemingly generic building, was a laboratory with what state-of-the-art technology the man who resided there still had to his name. He came out to meet them, signature ice-gun in hand, and aimed impartially at first Robin, and then Spoiler.

"That's not necessary."

"I'll be the judge of that." Mr. Freeze replied in a tone to match. "I don't believe in taking fool risks or abandoning caution."

"We're all on the same side here."

"For now."

"Do you have the cure for Scarecrow's Fear Toxin ready yet?"

"Some of it, yes. I was not able to manufacture a large amount. If you use what I have now, I will have to start from scratch again. In order to have enough to purify _all_ the contaminated water sources, I will need more time."

"Let us see it."

Mr. Freeze seemed unamused by the request (but then he always seemed unamused), and stepped to one side. "After you."

Robin and Spoiler went deeper into the lab. They saw Mr. Freeze's wife, still slumbering in her eerie, ethereal state of suspended animation as her husband continued in vain to find a cure for her particular disease. But where success there had eluded him, he had at least managed to synthesize an antidote for the Fear Toxin being peddled by the Scarecrows. Sure enough, Robin and Spoiler could see the vial of it, properly marked. The liquid inside was an odd, teal color.

"There it is. Now if you're satisfied and there's nothing else, I would like to get back to my work."

"Nice to see you again too." Robin grumbled sarcastically before he and Spoiler left Mr. Freeze's lab. Getting back on their motorcycles, they were soon off again.

"You sure we can trust Freeze?" Spoiler asked. "I mean, he _is _a bad guy."

"Yes, but he also cares about his wife. He won't risk anything happening to her, or let her wake up in a city she can't survive in. Besides, I don't think Freeze is as awful as he pretends to be. He's not the Scarecrows or Black Mask."

"I hope you're right, Tim."

"I usually am. And remember, no real names in the field..._Spoiler_."

"We're on a secure channel."

"Secure channels can be hacked. We've done it enough times that you should know that."

"Alright, alright, _Robin. _Now what?"

"Well, we _were _going back to the cave, but police chatter just said there's a shootout not far from here. So we're going there."

"Wait...were you listening to police chatter while talking to me?"

"Don't sound surprised. I'm good at multitasking. And besides..." Robin swerved his bike around and began driving towards the shootout, with Spoiler following right behind. "...I like a good challenge."

_Wayne Manor_

"Mom, dad, welcome home."

Bruce stepped inside the august manor he had spent his whole life in without a word. He looked around. The lights were off, and the darkened interior seemed all-too appropriate to Bruce. His home seemed to have changed little since he'd seen it last, but everything else had changed so much that even being back in Wayne Manor didn't feel the same as it had before. The paintings still hung on the walls, including one of Bruce and his parents when the former was four that was now 75 years old. The knight armors still stood on their pedestals, and from the looks of it, were still kept well-preserved. And the book shelves and fireplaces remained intact. All of this and more was still the same, but even so, Bruce felt no great blossom of joy or happiness being back. Not with Alfred's familiar presence still absent, and Gotham City outside being what it was. Bruce hadn't seen much when he, Selina, and Helena swam to the mainland (as all of the bridges remained destroyed). But what little he'd seen was enough to know that he was right to have come back. However he felt, however many ghosts from his past were still haunting him, he needed to return.

_Gotham is my home. And I need to help it now more than ever, no matter the personal cost._ He looked up at that painting again. He had looked at it many times, both out of respectful mourning and as a form of encouragement whenever doubt dared to creep in. This was neither of those things though; he had no doubts now, what he'd seen Gotham become had snuffed those out like a small candle flame. And he was not performing an act of mourning either, not exactly. Instead, he looked at that painting as a reminder: that no matter how many years passed, how many decades, what happened to his parents would never leave his memory, or stop being a reminder of his duty. He had renounced it once due to age and again due to trauma and grief. But these had been only temporary, and now he was back to help however he could. Whether in the batsuit or out, he would not lose his home without a fight.

That then was what filled Bruce Wayne's being as he walked through Wayne Manor for the first time in years. Not the feelings of a joyous reunion but instead a sense that everything was back to how it should be. Not ideal maybe, and not joyful, but fitting. This was his home, and he had his duty. That would have to be enough for him now.

_I'm sorry we had to leave our new home, Selina. _Bruce thought. _I hope for your sake we can go back some day. _He had seen how happy his wife had been there. Where he had always struggled to put it all behind him, even in an idyllic French countryside, Selina had had no such difficulties. She had loved it there. She had by then had her fill as Catwoman and unlike Bruce was not crippled by grief or the knowledge that she had been fully prepared to break her code against killing. He had not done so only because Joker was doomed to die soon anyway, and even before that he had to break his code decades before. Selina did not have those burdens on her soul. So when peace was offered to her, it did not feel unearned, as it had with him. It felt like the reward it was, and not just running away.

Taking the elevator down to the Batcave, Bruce, Selina, and Helena got the attention of everyone when they stepped in.

"Bruce..." Richard Grayson said, eyes widening and even, it seemed, watering a little. "You made it back!" Walking over to him, Richard hugged his old mentor and surrogate father tightly. "I am so glad to see you here. I just wish you were coming back under better circumstances."

"We _all _wish that." Oracle said, wheeling up to the group and sharing a hug with Helena.

"That can't be helped." Bruce said. "The situation is what it is. Now what are we doing to improve it?"

"Whatever we can, but unfortunately that's not enough." Richard shook his head before walking over to the Batcomputer and turning it on. "Here's the current state of things..." He began, and as he did images on the Batcomputer appeared one by one that showed maps of Gotham City with color-coded sections to indicate who controlled what part, and just the general state of the city. As the images were shown, Richard gave Bruce, Selina, and Helena the run-down: "The military and National Guard have tried to air-lift civilians to safety, but many are refusing to leave. Gotham's their home, and they're reluctant to lose everything but the clothes on their backs. They're also trying to fix the bridges, but that'll take time. If any of the Green Lanterns were planet-side they could create temporary bridges, but of course none of them are at the moment."

It was then that Oracle added: "Until the bridges are rebuilt, the damage to Gotham can't be fully repaired. March Ventures and Wayne Enterprises are doing what they can to rebuild buildings and provide aid relief, but even they can't take care of an entire city. And, of course, there's a near-constant stream of unrestrained, unchecked gang violence as well as supervillain activity. The GCPD are completely overwhelmed. The area surrounding their HQ is mostly under control, the cops trying to make it a place where people are protected. But that safe-zone is always in danger of being overrun by gangs, supervillains, or both."

"It gets worse..." Richard continued. "Most of the gangs fight each-other as much as anything, and that infighting helps us somewhat, but unfortunately a lot of innocent people still get caught in the crossfire. Also, several of the water sources in the city have been contaminated. Some, as a result of the damage to the city. Others, deliberate poisoning by the Scarecrows using the latest iteration of Fear Toxin. We have a cure for it being made, but according to Robin and Spoiler, it will take time."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Robin?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot to mention. BJ took on his own Robin about four years after he became Batman. His name is Tim Drake. He's really good at it, Bruce. Sharp as a knife and not a shabby fighter either. Honestly, he's even better at it than _I_ was when I was his age."

"And...who is Spoiler?" Selina asked.

"His...girlfriend. She wanted to fight the good fight too, and BJ decided to let her, so long as she agreed to do what he said and let him train her. She's a bit reckless, but her heart's in the right place."

"And who is making the cure for the Fear Toxin?" Bruce pressed.

"Mr. Freeze." Oracle answered. "This is his city too, and he doesn't want it to go to hell anymore than we do."

"I doubt that." Bruce said. "I don't like the idea of trusting Freeze, but if he's working on a cure, we should focus on the more pressing threats for now."

"Agreed. And there is one other thing..."

The elevator door opened again, this time the person inside coming _up _rather than going down. And out of the elevator came a man dressed in what was clearly meant to be Batman, but not like any Batsuit any there had ever seen before.

"What is _that?_" Selina asked with a raised eyebrow and a bewildered smile. The costume in question was mostly black, but with the chest area in grayish white and golden armor on the upper chest. A golden yellow utility belt was worn around the waist, and extra pouches around one thigh. But it was the gauntlets, cowl, and cape that got the most attention; the cape was scalloped in the Batman tradition, but with raised, pointed shoulders and dark blue instead of black. The pointy-eared cowl (also dark blue), was a full-face covering mask with glowing red eyes, and the gauntlets were blue and gold and with razor-sharp steel claws.

"...meet your latest successor."

The new Batman looked from one person in the room to the next, gazing at each of them before focusing on Bruce Wayne. "You...you are the original Batman, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Have you come to reclaim your mantle?"

"Maybe." Bruce said, returning the new Batman's look with a stern, unyielding one of his own. "Who are you?"

The new Batman removed his mask, revealing a young man with long, blonde hair and handsome features. "My name is Jean Paul Valley. Mr. Grayson approached me and recruited me to be the new Batman while my predecessor continues to recover."

"Where is BJ anyway?" Selina asked. "I don't see him here."

"Down in the lower floor of the cave, still recovering." Oracle said. "He...he still hasn't woken up."

"I want to go see him." Selina said.

"Of course. Elevator's all yours."

As Selina left to go down to see her son, Bruce watched her go before turning back around to face Richard, Jean-Paul, and Oracle. "We'll discuss the matter of you choosing Mr. Valley here to replace my son later. For now, I'm also going down to see him."

"Fair enough, but just remember that we've still got a city out there that needs all the help it can get."

"I won't forget." Bruce said, before following Selina to the elevator and taking it down.

"I don't think he likes me." Jean-Paul observed dryly.

"He doesn't know you yet." Richard said. "_And _you're replacing his son. Plus, Bruce has never been the type to trust easily. Believe me, I've known him almost my entire life."

"I'm only here because you asked me to be." Jean-Paul pointed out. "And because I'm needed."

Meanwhile, down on the lower floor of the Batcave, Bruce and Selina stood silently at the side of their son, still unconscious and hooked up to numerous machinery as all the while his back remained broken and mending slowly. He was in a full-body cast and brace and everything. Bruce put his arms around Selina, and could feel her shaking violently.

"What's wrong with us, Bruce?" Selina whispered. "We must have been out of our minds to let him do this..."

"It was his choice, Selina. Just as it was ours when we first took up this life. We all knew the risks, and I don't think we ever could have stopped BJ from following in our footsteps."

"We could have tried."

"Fighting crime as he has gave him purpose and fulfillment, Selina."

"We should have kept him from doing this. Parents are supposed to _protect_ their children!"

"BJ made the same choice other young men make when they become policemen or join the army; he chose to risk his life for others. I don't believe I could have taken that away from him."

"_I _could have." Selina said ruefully. Silence fell between the two, Bruce continuing to hold Selina close to him. As he did, he thought about what she had said. Would it really have been more responsible and indeed, right, to have forbidden their son from becoming a costumed crimefighter? After all, parents are meant to want and indeed fight for, what is best for their children. But on the other hand, when young men go off to war, few ever call the parents wrong for allowing it. But was that really the same thing?

"Apologies for what happened to your son, but it was necessary to draw you back to Gotham."

Whipping around, Bruce and Selina turned to see, stepping out of the shadows, the all-too familiar black and gray armored form of Owlman, cold gray helmet with beak still covering most of his face, and his identity still not known to Bruce Wayne even now (though he did have his suspicions).

"_You._" Selina hissed.

"How did you get in here?" Bruce demanded. Owlman smiled. "Oh, come come now, Bruce. We both know I'm as adept at breaking and entering as you and your wife ever were. There is no defense or security measure of yours that I can't overcome."

"So you know then?"

"From the beginning, actually. Oh never fear, never fear. I won't blow the whistle on you. If I wanted to do _that_, I wouldn't have waited decades."

"Why are you here?" Bruce demanded.

"To pay you a visit. _And _to send you a message."

"What message?"

"Simply this; we've been at it on and off for a long time now, you and I. But I think we've reached the point where the game has gone on long enough. I propose a final contest between us, your man against mine. If you win, I shall leave Gotham and allow it to recover. But, if my champion wins, then I assure you I will do everything in my power to make sure that you, your family, the police, and everyone on the outside fails to restore Gotham, and the city will remain an isolated hellhole forever. Which, incidentally, is _exactly_ what I'll do if you refuse this deal."

"We can't trust you." Selina growled.

"Rubbish. I'm many things, but I _don't _break my word when I give it. When I say that I'll leave and let Gotham recover if your champion beats mine, I mean it. Besides...what choice do you really have? And it's not as though you weren't going to come after me in any case. That in mind, I'll be waiting for you at the Solomon Wayne courthouse. A fitting location for this, I thought." He turned around. "I suggest you not keep me waiting."

"One question." Bruce said. "Your...'champion'. Who is he?"

Owlman stopped. "I see no reason to not tell you; my son. I trained him myself, and wasn't the only one. I can assure you he's highly skilled. As good as you or I ever was in our primes. But then, I'm still _in_ mine."

"Courtesy of the Lazarus Pits no doubt."

"Very good. I see your brain still serves you well even in retirement, Bruce. You should have taken the Demon Head's offer. Then it would not have gone to me."

"Ra's asked too high a price."

"Too high a price? For someone as wealthy as you?" Owlman chuckled. "Still the same, aren't you Bruce? Still unwilling to make sacrifices." Owlman walked off again. "Well, I'll be waiting, Bruce. Send your newest Batman to face down my son. Gotham's future will depend on it."

_Three Days Later._

"I hope Bruce knows what he's doing." Robin said as he and Azrael looked down at the Solomon Wayne courthouse from the rooftop they were on.

"I appreciate your confidence in me." Azrael replied sarcastically.

"We don't know what we're going up against here." Robin countered. "You may be good, but we have no way of knowing that Owlman's son isn't better."

'Well there's only one way to find out." Azrael returned. He readied his golden gauntlets again and checked over the rest of his gear. There was a moment of silence between them, before Azrael added: "I should be wearing the Batsuit for this. The whole reason Grayson recruited me was to be Batman."

"We can't have Gotham lose two Batmen in less than a month." Robin said. "The city's morale right now is awful enough as it is."

"Oh ye of little faith." Azrael replied, shaking his head. "Fine. So be it. I'll face Owlman's son as Azrael and emerge the victor regardless."

"I hope so." Robin said. "If nothing else, Freeze has manufactured more of the cure, and we should have enough to remove all the fear toxin from the contaminated water sources within the week."

Azrael nodded and looked at the courthouse again. "No sense putting it off any longer. Let's go down."

The two superheroes fired their grapple hooks at other nearby buildings and swung down. Landing in front of the courthouse, Azrael and Robin pushed their way in through the front doors. Upon entering the long abandoned building, they saw a dozen League of Assassins ninjas sitting where the jury would normally be, Bane standing at attention with arms folded as though the bailiff, and Owlman himself sitting in the judge's chair.

"This seems like a biased trial." Robin observed dryly. Owlman chuckled. "Don't worry, this will still be between your associate and my son."

At that, Prometheus stepped forwards to face Robin and Azrael. He wore a white cape and a form-fitting, dark purple bodysuit that covered him totally from the neck-down. He wore a utility belt that was also purple, and golden vambraces and shoulder pauldrons, both of which were studded. A purple helmet that looked vaguely like a futuristic take on a Medieval knight helmet with clamp-down visor, completed his look.

"Don't disappoint me." He told Azrael. "I haven't had a challenge in a while."

"You'll get more than a challenge out of me, I promise you." Azrael returned, as he did drawing his sword, which then ignited to become a flaming blade. Entering a fighting stance, Azrael braced himself.

"Cool sword. But I've got a weapon of my own." Prometheus drew a large, purple club, that began to crackle with electricity.

No further words were exchanged between them before they went at it. Each man's melee weapon of choice proved able to clash with the other without breaking or failing. And so the two men dueled, sword and club, fire and lightning, back and forth. Integrated into their swordplay were leaps, spins, backflips, and the occasional martial arts kick or elbow strike. As Robin watched, anticipation growing all the while, he did the only thing he _could_ do; let his mind work.

Silently analyzing the fighting styles of each man, Robin concluded that Prometheus fought with a style reminiscent of the Japanese fighting art Kendo, namely Tenshin Shōden Katori Shintō-ryū, where his club was used in lieu of the more traditional wooden sword. Azrael, meanwhile, fought with a European style, probably French in origin considering both his name and the design of his flamesword, which was consistent with the design of French longswords. Each man clearly knew his chosen style well, and as Robin continued to watch, and continued to make note of how much ground each got against the other, he could see no clear superior or obvious victor. Which, of course, just made the anxiety worse.

Azrael trapped one of Prometheus' feet by stepping on it, and swung his sword at the other man's neck. Prometheus still managed to parry, quickly freeing his foot and continuing his assault, but Azrael ducked under one swing, and then leaped over the other, striking out with his sword as he did. Prometheus stepped back, and when Azrael landed he surged forwards. The sword strikes rained down with such speed and precision that Prometheus seemed to finally have difficulty blocking them all in time. And that wasn't all; though the club had proven sturdy so far, it was at last beginning to show cuts and dents from all the places it had blocked the flaming sword. That told Azrael that his foe's weapon wasn't invincible after all. Now with increased determination, Azrael swung all the harder, but not so much so that he gave up his precision and accuracy. Finally, with one last well aimed, powerful slash, Azrael cut clean through the club, the severed half clattering to the ground. Quickly tossing away the other half as it short-circuited and exploded, Prometheus was now off-balance. Seizing on the opportunity, Azrael moved in. With a roar, he thrusted, planning to drive his sword through Prometheus' chest.

Prometheus _just _managed to move, but the sword still cut through part of his suit, leaving a deep, red cut and shredding the part of his bodysuit that it connected with. Prometheus willed himself not to scream (least of all with his father watching), and struggled to regain his footing. He knew if he didn't he'd get floored any moment. Thinking quickly, he opened one of his belt pouches. Several pellets fell out that he tossed into Azrael's face. Azrael gasped as the smoke got him in the eyes. His mask protected him somewhat, but he was still temporarily blinded. Seizing on his chance, Prometheus grabbed Azrael's sword-arm and twisted it, forcing him to drop his blade. The flames winked out as the sword clattered to the floor, and then Prometheus kicked Azrael through the air. Azrael tumbled as he hit the ground. Robin gasped, and Prometheus smiled.

"You don't...fight fair."

"The League of Assassins don't fight to be fair. We fight to _win._" He walked over to Azrael's discarded sword and reached for it. Seeing this, Azrael smiled. "Good. So do I."

No sooner had Prometheus touched the sword did several small spikes jut out of the hilt, piercing the flesh of Prometheus' hand. He screamed and dropped the blade.

"Safety measure." Azrael explained as he staggered to his feet. "Only one worthy of the Sword of St. Dumas may use it." He entered a Karate stance. "Let's see how far you get in hand-to-hand."

Prometheus gave a decidedly nasty smile. "Well enough I should think. This helmet isn't just for show. It's directly connected to my nervous system and can download information directly into my brain. That includes sending to my central nervous system the contents of a CD that contains information on thirty of the world's best martial artists...including my father and the original Batman." He cracked his neck, let his helmet do it's work, and entered one of the preferred fighting styles of martial artist legend Richard Dragon.

"Yes, I think I'll get by _just fine_."

The two engaged. Prometheus' injuries gave Azrael an advantage, but Prometheus using the fighting styles of martial artists who were better than Azrael gave him one too. Even with a hand he could barely use, Prometheus still made effective use of his other three limbs plus the knees and elbows to keep Azrael on his toes. For his part, Azrael had activated the wrist-blades in his gauntlets and was attempting to stab Prometheus with no success. The two went at it for a while, and as had been the case before, they seemed to be on roughly even footing. But then, Prometheus finally managed to grab Azrael by the neck and viciously knee him in the stomach. Azrael doubled over, and Prometheus followed it up with a roundhouse kick that nailed Azrael in the side of his head and downed him.

"Yield."

Azrael turned around to face Prometheus. He was seeing three and he felt like he had a concussion (he might), but he still had one last trick to pull.

"Prometheus, huh?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"It just reminded me. Of what happened to the original..."

With his free hand, Azrael fired the grapple-hook gun he'd been given by Richard Grayson, aiming it at his discarded sword. The claw caught the hilt, and Azrael pulled it towards him. Prometheus saw this and stepped down on the line...just as Azrael lunged forwards with his gauntlet blade.

Prometheus gasped as he felt the blade dig deep into his stomach, bringing him and Azrael close enough to kiss. "...they went for his liver."

Azrael pulled the blade out, and Prometheus fell. Willing himself to stand back up, Azrael pointed his now blood-stained gauntlet blade at Owlman. "Your champion has fallen. I claim victory." Then, with more finality: "Now get the hell out of our city."

Owlman said nothing for a moment. Then, he ordered his men to retrieve his son's body. They did so, and Azrael and Robin let them. For his part, Robin felt like a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders in that moment. He was smiling ear-to-ear in spite of himself. All at once, the fight to bring Gotham out of the abyss suddenly seemed winnable.

"I believe our business here is concluded." Owlman said, rising from the judge's chair as he did.

"Actually...not quite." Robin said with a smile. He put a hand to the communicator in his ear. "Did you get all that?"

_"Yes."_

And then, flying through the window of the courthouse, cape extended as a glider, was the original Batman, back in the armor and cape he hadn't worn in seven years. Landing dramatically, Batman faced them all down. "You can all go, except for _him._" He pointed at Bane. "I have business with him."

Owlman smiled. "Now, now; I said I would leave this city if your champion beat mine. I said nothing about letting you take Bane."

"This isn't a request."

Bane stepped forwards. "There is no need to intervene, my friend. I've been desiring this fight for a long time."

Batman entered a fighting stance. Bane smiled, cracked his knuckles, and ran at him.

What followed happened with such speed and ferocity almost no one watching could believe it; Batman leaped into the air, launching a swarm of batarangs. One cut the tube that supplied Bane his venom, ensuring he could not use it here. Landing and ducking as Bane swung out with one arm, Batman back-flipped as Bane drove his fist into the floorboards, splitting them in two. Charging forwards, Batman delivered several strikes to nerve bundles in the deltoid, rendering Bane's arm useless. Gasping in shock, Bane tried to muster a defense, but Batman wouldn't let him. He went at Bane again, delivering brutal hit after brutal hit, striking the stomach, the shoulders, the knees, the head. _Everything_. Bane fought back like a cornered animal, and remained dangerous despite having only one arm in working order. A few hits even came close to hitting Batman. But in the end it didn't matter; righteous fury was fueling Batman here, and Bane never stood a chance. Finally kicking Bane's legs out from under him, Batman brought him down and delivered a flurry of acupuncture attacks that shut down the muscles in Bane's body. The villain swayed, and then collapsed.

"_That _was for my son." Batman said, before looking up at Owlman: "Leave. **_Now_**."

Owlman gave a mock-bow of assent. "As you wish. Consider Bane a gift."

_Hours Later_

"It's over." Batman said as he returned to the Batcave. "Bane's in custody and Owlman and the League of Assassins have left Gotham."

"Good to hear." Richard Grayson replied. "And the cure for the fear toxin's being mass produced by Mr. Freeze as we speak. Things are looking up."

"We still have a long way to go before Gotham's healed."

"I know. But now it actually feels like we have a chance...it's good to have you back, Bruce."

"This is where I belong."

"You sure you're alright being Batman again?"

"I'm not sure." He admitted, before adding: "But it doesn't matter. The mission matters more than my feelings, Richard. It always has. Besides...old men like me have a responsibility to our homes. To make them better...before we leave them for good."


	8. 2000s: What masks have long concealed

_2004_

He wasn't sure when it hit him. What was the precise moment when it happened. Was it when he flew through the skyline of Gotham on his jet boots for the first time and remembered how, sixty-plus years ago he didn't even have a grapple-hook gun? Was it when he first found himself getting more than a little exhausted with all the March Conglomerate advertisements he saw? Or how their logo was everywhere? Or perhaps it was just when he beheld what his city now looked like, able to view it from the air and a great distance as he now was courtesy of the armor. When he looked out, and saw a city of shiny, glittering, chrome buildings, bright lights in multiple colors, and hi-tech, massive screens on some buildings like the kind found in the heart of New York City.

But whatever it was, the truth _did _hit him. And the truth was, he didn't recognize his city anymore.

Gone it seemed, were all the old, gothic buildings and structures of old. Though Gotham had been getting cleaner, nicer, and more modern for decades under Bruce's efforts, Lincoln's, and others, now it seemed entirely transformed. That grueling twelve-month period after Bane's actions and it's aftermath had seen the last of the old Gotham swept away. Now, a decade after the end of Gotham's descent into anarchy and despair, it looked more like Metropolis then the place Batman had been defending for decades. And that thought didn't sit right with him at all.

_Well, at least there's less crime now. Finally._

Flying through the air once more on the jet boots, Batman also kept track of his heartbeat monitor. Still beeping at the desired, steady rate. That was good. Ever since his physical age had returned to it's fifties, Selina and others within his now quite large family had insisted he get something like that installed in the armor if he was planning on continuing. The armor itself represented the latest and greatest in Batsuits. Less a traditional batsuit and instead a full-fledged set of power armor, it nevertheless boasted the usual gray and black Batman color-scheme, and even kept the scalloped cape and blades on the gauntlets. But now, the gauntlets fired out concussive beams of energy, as well as missiles when something inanimate needed to be destroyed. A full-face concealing helmet with pointy ears more advanced (and durable), then his previous ones concealed his visage completely, and glowing blue lines ran throughout. These represented the armor's power source. What most didn't know, was that there were alternate power sources the suit could draw on, and the lines would change color accordingly. For..."extreme" situations, red. And for a particular scenario Batman had always hoped to avoid but nevertheless remained prepared for, green.

Zipping through the city, the audio receptors in the helmet (which were tuned to mostly monitor police chatter, news broadcasts, and the like), picked up many cheers and shouts of encouragement. Batman couldn't help but smile at that. Funny how much things changed in sixty-five years. He had never gotten a reaction like that back then.

_I wish Alfred could have seen this. _Batman thought as he continued his patrol over the city. _Jim too._

"_Everything looking good up there, Bruce?"_ Came Oracle's voice as he flew around the now vastly improved upon East End.

"Yes, Oracle. Everything's looking good from up here."

_"Same from the others. Azrael, Batgirl, Robin, they're all reporting calm streets and no violent crime. It's a peaceful night tonight, Bruce."_

"Yes, it's starting to feel like more and more of them are these days."

"_You almost sound disappointed." _Oracle teased.

Batman didn't respond to that. He wondered. Gotham City had needed a Batman for so long, but was the day finally approaching when it wouldn't anymore? Could he finally retire and _stay _retired? The thought _did_ have it's appeal.

_I know Selina still wants to go back to our dream house in France. Should I really keep depriving her of it?_

It had been one thing when Gotham City was at it's lowest point, but things were much different now. The city was the cleanest, most peaceful, and most crime-free it had ever been. Not even the previous high point in the 1970s was as good as things were now. In fact oftentimes it really did seem like the only thing that dampened people's spirits was the war in Iraq and the lingering after-effects of the September 11 attacks on everyone's psyches.

_Well, I'm staying well away from this latest war. I don't believe for a moment that it's really about what happened in New York three years ago. Besides, two wars was more than enough for me._

Still, that aside, things _were _going well. Enough so in fact that Batman had lately been giving some thought to devoting more time and energy to the city of Bludhaven.

_Now **there's** a city that could use some of our intervention. It's as bad as Gotham ever was back in the day..._

_Bludhaven_

Charlie gasped in pain as he was thrown roughly to the ground again. By now bruises covered his body and he felt like his bones were breaking.

"Sit down. We're not done talking to you."

Charlie moaned and tried to nurse his wounds, as the three men who stood over him looked down at him with cruel disdain. They all had badges; one was a detective in plainclothes, and the other two fully uniformed officers. They each had a different build, and all had pistols drawn. And they were all of them corrupt to the bone. Hence Charlie's current predicament.

"You've been holding out on us again. You and your neighbors."

"We don't have anything to give." Charlie protested. "We need...more time."

"You sure? You sure there's _nothing _you can't part with?" The corrupt detective pressed. "I've found folks can usually find _something _to part with when the pressure's on." One of the corrupt officers kicked Charlie again. He cried out in pain.

"Hit him in the ass again. I like to see how it jiggles."

A voice rang out: "You know, where I'm from, cops _help _people in need."

"The hell?" One of them asked. "Who said that?"

A gunshot rang out, hitting one officer in the leg. He screamed and fell over. The other two whipped around and fired at the source of the shot, but the shooter was already on the move. Leaping to the adjacent rooftop, and then down below, the vigilante threw down a smoke pellet. Landing within the cloud, the assailant moved like a shadow, downing the other cop by breaking his leg and punching him out. A swift kick, and the corrupt detective's gun went spinning out of his hand. Panicking, he tried to flee, but another gunshot rang out, tearing through his leg and causing him to fall. Howling in pain, he clutched his bleeding leg as he looked about for his attacker. "Y-you can't do this!" He stammered. "You realize what you've done!? We're _cops!_ We're the _law_ here!"

Stepping out of the shadows, the detective's assailant was revealed in full; the build was lean, but the body armor hid any hint as to the vigilante's gender or race. That included the red helmet that covered the head. The red helmet, from which this vigilante got their name.

"No...not you...not you! You ain't supposed to be real!"

"Sometimes it's OK to believe what you hear." Red Hood pulled back the top of the pistol, giving it the all-too familiar "click" sound that signaled it was ready to fire. Slowly, the gun was lowered at the detective's head.

"No! You can't do this! I'm a cop! You hear me? _A cop!_"

Red Hood's eyes narrowed with contempt behind the helmet. "No...you're not a cop. Neither are those two meatheads back there. You're just another criminal."

A shot rang out, echoing through the alleyway.

"...and I don't like criminals."

_Gotham City_

Returning to the Batcave, Batman let the machinery that had since been built into it help him remove his power armor. Once he was out of it, he went over to where Oracle was. "Another good night."

"Agreed." Oracle said. "At this rate I can finally retire. For _real _this time. BJ did."

"I know. Helena said she probably will soon too." Bruce acknowledged. "Hardly surprising, they're both in their fifties now."

"It's not just Helena, Bruce. Tim and Stephanie have told me they're thinking about retiring too. They want to spend more time with their kids, and they don't think they're needed all that much now either. I mean, even _Azrael _seems a lot less intense and driven than he was back in the day. The only one who still seems fully into it is Batgirl, and that's probably because she's been at it for much less than the rest of us."

"Gotham _has _changed a lot since the old days." Bruce admitted. "Remember when we were dealing with giant starfish aliens from outer space and men dressed up as pencils and calculators?"

"Them and a group of evil, talking gases led by a giant football." Oracle noted in a deadpan. "Yes, I remember. Still hard to believe some of that stuff happened. It feels like a different lifetime almost. Like all of those old adventures from the fifties and sixties were a whole different timeline or something." Oracle smiled and shook her head. "Anyway, there's something I think you should know about."

"What is it?"

"I got a message from Richard in Bludhaven. He says there's been another murder by the Red Hood."

Bruce frowned. "Who was he?"

"Dirty cop. Corrupt police detective named Frank Fields."

"So our murderous vigilante has graduated to cop-killer." Bruce shook his head. "This has gone on long enough. I think I should go over there and handle this."

"You're sure?"

"Gotham's the best it's ever been, you said it yourself. So did I. Besides, the others can handle things here without me for at least a while. I also don't think this Red Hood will last long against me in the power armor. Yes, I think it would be for the best if I went."

"Alright, if you say so. I'll let Richard know you're coming. He'll be glad to see you again."

_Bludhaven_

Red Hood smiled in satisfaction at what was on the news; reports detailing all the dirt on Frank Fields that the vigilante had collected before killing him. Having sent said dirt to the press, they were publishing the stories without fear of being hushed up by corrupt police chiefs they were not subservient to, and now everyone knew that Red Hood wasn't just another cop killer; the Red Hood was cleaning the dirt out of a department that was filthy beyond belief.

_One down, hundreds to go. _Red Hood thought with a weary sigh. The vigilante wasn't naive; the crime and corruption in Bludhaven was as bad as things in Gotham had ever been, if not worse. There would be no end to Red Hood's war save a return to the grave. But what damage Red Hood did and what lives were protected or spared was enough for the vigilante to provide purpose and direction.

_Gotham's clean nowadays. It's Bludhaven that needs me._

The irony was, that this was the same mentality held by Bludhaven's new, elderly but principled and incorruptible District Attorney, Richard Grayson. Red Hood knew who Richard Grayson had been in his younger years. Red Hood knew that Richard Grayson had once fought crime in a decidedly different way, and would still be doing so if he wasn't about seventy-five years old. And Red Hood knew that Richard Grayson was in Bludhaven now because although they disagreed strongly on methods, they agreed completely that Bludhaven needed saving.

_I don't expect him to ever see things my way. __But if he knows what's good for him, he won't try to stop me._

Of course, Richard Grayson was liable to be the least of Red Hood's problems very soon. It was only a matter of time before Batman came to Bludhaven, Red Hood knew that without any doubt. Were it not for the vigilante's mysterious benefactor, Red Hood would have stood little chance against the Dark Knight. What with that power armor of his.

_But I'm prepared for that. _Red Hood thought. _Just you wait, Batman. I've got some nasty surprises in store for you._

Elsewhere in the city, Richard Grayson was informed by his secretary at the DA's office that a old, mustached man named "Mycroft Malone" wanted to see him. Smiling as he heard the name, Richard permitted her to show him in. Entering, the man asked: "Will we be overheard in this room?" Richard shook his head. The old man smiled. "Good. Then we can drop the pretense."

"You went for a different first name this time." Richard noted as Bruce set about removing his fake mustache and the wig that had made his hair look longer than it was. "Usually it's Matches or Matthew Malone."

"Can't use the exact same pseudonym every time. It becomes predictable and worse, it can create a trail. Multiple aliases to choose between are better. I've used over two hundred in the course of my career."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Over two hundred? I don't remember that many."

"You didn't see me use them all. But I didn't come here to talk about my methods. I came here to talk about those of Red Hood's."

"Bad news travels fast." Richard noted with a sigh. "Then again, that's just as well. Did you bring the armor?"

"Of course."

"Then with any luck, Red Hood's days in this city are numbered. I'm more concerned about actually _holding_ him once you take him down. Bludhaven's prisons are as bad as Arkham ever was when it comes to security. Not only that, but Red Hood's killed a police detective. One who was rotten to the core and under investigation granted, but still; most of the other cops and detectives in this city are_ also_ dirty, and what few who aren't are still angry about this.

"You're afraid they might try to kill Red Hood once he's in custody." Bruce surmised.

"Yeah. And if all that wasn't enough, then there's everyone in this city who are cheering Red Hood on. Bludhaven's people are angry, Bruce. A lot of people in this city have been victims of corrupt cops, either directly or by having their cases dismissed or ignored. Red Hood's becoming to them what you are to Gotham. If he's convicted, it might be the last straw. I don't want or need a city-wide riot on my hands."

"Do you think you could have Red Hood moved to a court in a different city and be tried there? Bludhaven and Gotham are both cities in New Jersey after all."

"That won't go over well, but I may have no choice. Of course, Bludhaven's people may riot anyway, no matter _what _court convicts him."

"Justice needs to be allowed to win, Richard. Whether the people support Red Hood or not, he's still a murderer."

"Well, once we find him, you can take him down."

"We won't need to go searching for him. Red Hood doesn't know I'm here, so he won't lie low. He'll try to kill again, and the next time he does, I'll be there to intercept him."

"An ambush could be hard. That armor's not exactly easy to be stealthy in."

"Actually it _is. _There's a stealth-field generator built into it."

Richard smiled. "It _is_ good to have you here, Bruce. You always _did_ think of everything."

"And it's good to see _you _again, Richard." Bruce shook his hand, then reapplied his fake mustache and wig, and exited the DA's office. However, he didn't get too far from it, before a woman with red hair bumped into him roughly.

"Oh, excuse me." She said in abject apology upon realizing that she had slammed into Bruce. "That was really clumsy of me, I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright, young lady. No harm..." Bruce trailed off as he realized that he'd been punctured with something. And all of a sudden, he felt lightheaded. Looking at the redheaded woman, his eyes widened as he realized he recognized her. He hadn't seen her face in a long time, and the passage of so many years was what had thrown him off. But only for a moment. As they locked eyes, he recognized her, and she knew that he did. She gave him a look of icy hatred. "Yes, Bruce. It's me. Don't worry, what I injected you with won't kill you. That's my benefactor's pleasure." Stepping forwards, she took out a truncheon. "Your fallen child's returned to you, Bruce. Do I get a hug?"

And with this rhetorical question, Carrie Kelly struck Bruce in the face with the truncheon to finish the work of the sedative.

Over an hour later, Bruce woke up and found himself chained to a brick chimney. Looking out, he saw the Red Hood standing there in full attire, a gun drawn and aimed impartially at Bruce's head and throat.

"It's been a long time, Bruce."

"It certainly has." He replied, frowning. "The years haven't been good to you, Carrie."

"I'm not the one whose old, gray, and totally dependent on a suit of power armor." Red Hood shot back. "I know you're sitting there judging me right now, because I broke your precious code. Well let me tell you that I don't care _what_ you think, not anymore. I'm not that peppy teen who saved your ass from the Mutant Leader eighteen years ago. I've grown up."

"I feel sorry for you if you associate murder with growing up."

"I've never murdered anyone who didn't deserve it, but I don't expect _you _to believe that." Red Hood scoffed. "Why am I even trying to talk to you? You have no right to judge! You've killed people too."

"In self defense during a war. I've never executed criminals without a trial." Bruce sighed as he finished, the anger leaving his tone: "But I almost did. Once."

"Then how is what I do any different?"

"I seriously doubt every criminal you've killed is as bad as the Joker."

The mention of Joker prompted Red Hood to press the barrel of her pistol right up against Bruce's forehead. "Don't **_ever _**say his name to me. **_Ever!_**"

"Now, now, settle down, Miss Kelly." Red Hood turned to face Owlman, who at that moment had chosen to reveal himself. "I still have words with my long-time foe before we send him to his maker."

"_Owlman. _I should have known."

"A clever way of working around my promise to leave Gotham, don't you think? To lure you out here to Bludhaven. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist coming here if it meant stopping a killer vigilante. Just my luck that the Red Hood had chosen this city to operate in. It was a simple matter to get her to side with me."

"Only temporarily." Red Hood stressed. "You're criminal scum too, and when this is over..."

"You'll try to kill me, of course." Owlman said, the condescension in his tone making it clear how little he took Red Hood's threat seriously. Like an adult speaking to a child, but in essence that was how Owlman saw Red Hood relative to himself. He turned back to look at Bruce: "I wouldn't bother trying to summon that armor to your location if I were you. Red Hood confiscated your signal emitter while you were unconscious. Now, I know you probably have a back-up signal somewhere on you just in case, but that's why I took the liberty of creating a scrambler to interfere with it. And, even should your armor come, I've armed myself and Red Hood with the appropriate countermeasures." Owlman smiled. "You're not the only one who knows how to plan for every eventuality, Bruce."

Bruce frowned. "Now, this hardly seems fair. You calling me by my first name and me not returning the favor. I think it's time I changed that...Lincoln March."

Owlman's expression in the face of having his identity thrown at him was neither anger, fear, or shock. Instead, it was something more in the vein of a bemused smirk. "How long have you known?"

"Known for certain? Not as long as I should have, I'll admit. But suspect? Since '59. I became almost certain it was you when you disappeared in 1971, almost immediately after my fight with Ra's al Ghul and my rejection of his offer. I figured you had disappeared for the same reason _I_ did; because you had gone into the Lazarus Pit and couldn't explain to the public why you were suddenly a young man again. There were other clues over the years, but it would take time I don't have to list them all. Suffice to say you had the resources for it, and I knew you had lied to me earlier when I asked how things were with you and Julie. It took almost no time for me to discover that you weren't together anymore...that Julie was dead."

Lincoln's face fell as Batman said this, and as he looked into his eyes, Batman couldn't help but feel just a twinge of empathy in spite of it all. This was reinforced by what he said: "I really did love her, Bruce. I mean it. She was...she was the one real bright spot in my dark life. And I was always grateful that you were the one who introduced me to her."

"Not so grateful that you still didn't try to kill me and my family."

"I let you have your happiness with Selina in exchange for how you gave me happiness with Julie. A fair trade. That doesn't erase all of my reasons to hate you though."

"And just why _do _you hate me, Lincoln?"

"Because I'm _not _Lincoln, actually. That name is the same as Owlman; an identity. An alias I created to suit my purposes. My real name, is Thomas Wayne Jr." He smiled without humor. "I think you know what that means, Bruce. I don't expect you to believe it, but it's the truth. Our dear parents gave me up when I was young. Only room in the family for one child, apparently. I was sent to an orphanage. They had promised mother I would be well looked after. They lied. I won't offend your sensibilities by telling you of the things I saw and experienced there. Suffice to say though, that it opened my eyes to all that was wrong with Gotham, something I continued to be exposed to even after I fled that wretched place alongside two others: a rather brilliant but troubled boy with a talent for riddles, and another one who turned his intellectual talents to the study of _fear _later in life."

"Edward Nashton and Jonathan Crane." Batman noted without surprise.

"Of course. Gotham creates the monsters it deserves, Bruce. I learned that lesson early in the game. So did they. The three of us vowed from that day on that we would never allow ourselves to be victims of Gotham City ever again, and went our separate ways. _I _discovered that an inheritance had secretly been left for me by our dear, beloved mother. A shabby attempt at an apology I suspect, but one I accepted. It was useful to me, and I recognized that Mother had not intended for me to suffer so. I still despised her of course, but not as much as I did you and our _father_. My understanding was that it was _his _idea to have me sent away. I never learned why exactly, but I'm inclined to think it's because he thought I wasn't his, even though I bore his name."

"If you really believe that..."

"...then I don't know our mother? Oh don't be naive, Bruce. You of all people know that everyone has their secrets."

"_Not _her. She was a good woman."

"Yes, but not perfect evidently. At any rate, I took the money and used it to build up my own fortune. I changed my name, and once March Ventures was on stable enough footing, I did as _you_ did, Bruce: I travelled the world, learning skills and trades from across the continents. Only, my teachers were..._different _from yours. You learned sleuthing from the word's greatest detective, _I _studied at the foot of his arch-nemesis, who had survived that little tumble over the waterfall. You learned martial arts from Kirigi, _I_ learned from Ra's al Ghul."

"So you knew him before '71."

"Yes. At the time though, I had no interest in being his successor. Not just then. I still had an empire to build, resources to accumulate, and _plans_ to lay out. I daresay Ra's knew this, which is why he let me turn him down and live. When I returned to Gotham, it was with a very specific goal in mind: make Gotham _mine_. Use my influence to purge it of all it's hypocrisies, all it's filth, and put it entirely under my control. The criminal _and _the lawful. The legitimate institutions and the illicit ones. I would rebuild Gotham from the ground up, shaping it according to my designs. Your debut as Batman forced me to change my plans somewhat. I knew I'd need to deal with you, but as I saw you do what you did, I admit to becoming somewhat envious. I also recognized the benefit of concealing my identity. So I made my own costume, my own arsenal, my own vehicles. All modeled after yours, Bruce. And I became Owlman to your Batman."

Batman considered all he'd been told. Owlman was right; he _didn't _believe that they were brothers. That Lincoln March had secretly been his sibling (and possibly a half-sibling at that), all this time. But he also wanted to keep Owlman talking, and in any case, more information could be useful in the unpleasant event that it was all true.

"So you decided to make yourself an enemy of mine, is that it?"

"Killing you was only ever a secondary goal. I told you; my goal was to remake Gotham in my image."

"Yes, by directly or indirectly destroying the city piece by piece, and then having March Ventures renovate it. Or let a proxy or even my own company do it instead. That was the other thing that made me suspect you."

"But I covered my tracks too well, so you could never be totally sure it was me. For every renovation March Ventures oversaw personally, there was a dozen others done by shell companies I secretly owned. Couldn't make the trail _too _obvious after all. And you were so desperate to believe that Lincoln March was your friend, who only wanted what was best for Gotham. Your need for a friend as Bruce Wayne tempered your cynicism as Batman."

"It goes all the way back to 1957, when you ruined the land that had once belonged to Gotham's Native Americans and then purchased it for nothing before using Doctor Pamela Isley's work to restore it. Once she was no longer useful, you tried to get rid of her."

"Even farther back then that, Bruce. And actually, Doctor Isley's transformation was an accident. One that was inconvenient to me, considering how good of a scientist she was. But no matter; I still had her notes on terraforming and my scientists were, in time, able to replicate her original success."

"And then for the next several decades the pattern continued. You used madmen like Joker and Firefly to cause destruction and then turned around and rebuilt. Culminating in what you had Bane do over ten years ago."

"But don't you see, Bruce? It _worked. _Innocents may have had to suffer and die, but look at what Gotham has become! Crime the lowest it's ever been in the city's history! Clean and sanitary, and with solid infrastructure and buildings that are safe to live in. And all the monsters who fed off of the weak and defenseless, like those scum at the orphanage, were removed. I killed some of them myself, others I had killed. People no one would mourn, I assure you."

"That wasn't your decision to make."

"But clearly it was the_ right_ one. I've done what you couldn't, Bruce; I've _saved _Gotham and made it better. Even you can't deny that the city is better now than it was when we were children."

"And it doesn't bother you that so many innocents had to die for it to happen?"

"Of course it bothers me. But it was necessary. This is what Ra's understood but you never have; fighting crime on the streets is merely fighting symptoms, not curing the disease."

"I've fought to do that too, Lincoln. For years. And I did it alongside you."

"Yes, the _clean, law-abiding way_." Owlman retorted, putting as much sneering contempt into the words as he could. "Also the _slow_ way. The way that allowed too many guilty men to live and disappear quietly into obscurity. No, not good enough. It took me decades to get Gotham this far. If I'd done it your way, it would have taken twice as long at least."

"That's the fight for progress, Lincoln. Sometimes it _is_ slow. But a little progress and improvement is better than none at all."

"A nice sentiment, but I'm afraid it's not enough for me." He shook his head, then added: "I don't think there's anything more to be discussed, Bruce. I've succeeded in one of my two great goals in life, and now it's time to finally realize the second."

"You've never killed me yet."

"You've never quite had my full attention before. Again, remaking Gotham in my own image was my main goal. But that's over and done with now. Now...I devote _everything _to finishing you off." Reaching into his utility belt, Owlman drew a pistol. Specifically, a Colt Model 1903 Hammerless. Bruce's eyes widened in spite of himself. He recognized that gun. It's appearance had been seared into his mind over eighty years ago, and he had never forgotten it.

"Recognize it, don't you Bruce? Good. And no, you're not just being paranoid. This is it. This is _the _gun Joe Chill used on our parents so long ago."

"If what you've said about yourself is true, Lincoln...that gun killed _your_ mother too. And now you use it."

"How do you think I got this pistol, Bruce? There's a reason you never found Joe Chill. I got to him first. He didn't resist either. He knew he deserved to die for the life he had led." Owlman pulled back the top and the gun gave it's distinctive "click". "I avenged our parent's deaths, even if father didn't deserve it. But now it's time for this gun to finish what it began all those years ago. In a filthy, forgotten alley in 1920..."

"Drop the gun!" Shouted Richard Grayson as he suddenly appeared on the roof with a squad of SWAT cops in full gear and with rifles raised. Red Hood whipped around, guns drawn and began opening fire. Owlman tried to shoot, but Bruce's bonds fell away and he moved just as Owlman pulled the trigger of his gun. Striking out with his chains, Bruce knocked the pistol out of his hand.

"Damn. I _knew_ I should have shot you and be done with it."

"But you couldn't resist telling me everything before you killed me." Bruce pointed out. As Red Hood kept fighting the SWAT cops, Bruce continued: "You didn't want to leave me in the dark when you pulled the trigger." He grimaced. "You're the same as every other psychopath and lunatic I've ever fought; your arrogance and obsession with sticking rigidly to a convoluted plan sunk you. They always do."

Owlman lunged at Bruce and hit him. Bruce took out his second acid vial (the first having been used to free himself), and waited for Owlman to come closer for another hit. He did, but he also evaded the acid, knocking the vial out of Bruce's hand and striking him again. Then he hit him again. And again. His beating of Bruce was interrupted when a gunshot hit Owlman in the back of his helmet. The bullet bounced off, but it got Owlman's attention. Whipping around, he hurled smoke pellets at the police, and then dove to the discarded pistol of Joe Chill. Reclaiming it, he aimed it at Richard Grayson, but Bruce tackled him. Owlman forced Bruce off of him, aimed the gun...and fired.

The gunshot might as well have been a thunderclap and the accompanying lightning bolt from the heavens. Everyone paused as they saw the sight of Bruce being shot, stumbling, and then falling over the edge of the roof to the pavement below. Watching the sight with grim satisfaction, Owlman rose and turned to leave. Richard screamed at his men to gun him down, but they'd already been hammered by Red Hood and were in no position to either aim well or give chase. Soon, both Owlman and Red Hood were gone.

Richard swore loudly and rushed to the edge of the roof. Looking down at Bruce's broken body bleeding out on the street below, he felt more sick to his stomach than he ever had before.

"Call an ambulance! **_Now!_**" He turned to look back down at Bruce. He hated the sight, but at the same time, he couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

_Come on, Bruce. Hang in there. Please...don't die now. Please don't die..._

_Three Days Later_

Owlman reclined in his chair, as he did continuing to look at the gun he had shot Bruce with. The same gun that had taken their parents from them. The gun that had, in effect, forever altered the lives of both. After all, the gun had created Batman, and Batman had inspired Thomas to become Owlman. They owed who they were to this single firearm, and what it had done.

_A rather morbid notion, isn't it?_

A door opened behind him, and Owlman swiveled around to see Prometheus standing there. "I brought the man you wanted, father."

"Excellent, my son. Show him in please."

Prometheus bowed before exiting. Moments later, in stepped a handsome and well-dressed man in his thirties with red hair and blue eyes. His name was Thomas Elliot, renowned surgeon and a man who kept his personal life intensely private. And things like this were exactly the reason why.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I did. Sit down, Thomas."

Thomas Elliot did so, and Owlman said: "Now, Thomas...you may remember that I was the one who...took care of your father so that you could inherit your family's fortune. _And _to rid yourself of an abusive parent. Now the time has come for you to repay that debt."

"What do you want me to do?" Thomas asked, having anticipated that this was the reason Owlman was calling him in.

"As you know, Bruce Wayne is still recovering in a Gotham City hospital for the injuries I dealt him. Of course, the public does not know it is Bruce Wayne; he's been admitted under the alias he used in Bludhaven, 'Mycroft Malone'. He's been stabilized, but the damage to his body is beyond the average doctor's ability to mend. You on the other hand..."

"You...you want me to save him?" Thomas asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not at all. I want you to volunteer for the job, but you're not going to succeed. No, I'm afraid you're going to fail. _Badly_. And it's going to look like it was just a tragic case of a badly injured old man being beyond even _your_ skills to save."

_Now_ Thomas understood. And he didn't like it. "How am I going to do that?"

"Oh, simple; your surgical tools will be coated with a very esoteric, and very potent, poison. When you cut into Bruce Wayne's body to operate on him, he will receive the poison. It will finish him off. The symptoms of the poison are such that in a man in Mr. Wayne's current condition they could be mistaken as simply bleeding out or suffering a ruptured vital organ. Or perhaps his bullet wound reopened. I think you get the idea. Just operate as you normally would and let the poisoned tools do their work."

"But, won't they eventually realize..."

"By that time, Mr. Elliot, you will be long gone. The world will think you went on a private jet that had a bad crash. In reality, you'll be given a new identity by the League of Shadows, and a fresh start in a new country of your choosing."

"But, but my fortune..."

"...will have to be absorbed by the League, I'm afraid. But don't fret; our coffers can get you a replacement fortune easily enough. But this isn't a request, Mr. Elliot; you _will _do this for me."

"But Owlman, my practice, my life in Gotham..."

"_If _my demand is too much for you to bear...then you leave me no choice. I shall have to inform on you to the Gotham City police."

"No, no! I...don't want you to do that. It's just the risks involved, they give a man pause. Not to mention I'd be blatantly violating the Hippocratic oath..."

"_Hush, _Mr. Elliot. As I said, you will be supplied with what you need. And once it is done, you will be quietly given a new life by the League of Shadows before the police have the opportunity to arrest you."

"It's not the police I'm concerned with." Thomas Elliot retorted with a frown. "The Bat has a large, extended family, including a Kryptonian daughter-in-law and grandchildren. I don't fancy my chances against such beings."

"Ah, yes. Well..." Owlman smiled. "...the Kryptonians will have problems of their own. The Kryptonite lipstick I gave to Doctor Isley will see to that."

Thomas Elliot raised an eyebrow at that but didn't inquire. As it was, he knew that he had no way out of this one. He had to do what Owlman told him, or his life was forfeit. It just might be anyway.

"Alright, Owlman. I'll do it."

"There was never a doubt in my mind that you would." Owlman replied with a smile. "Now go. Put Mr. Wayne out of his misery."

_A pity that my actions didn't actually kill Bruce._ Owlman thought as Thomas Elliot left._ But I've still contributed to his death, and I'll settle for that. I dare not give Bruce the chance to escape this and live again. Persistent bastard that he is. _

_Gotham City_

Thomas Elliot stood outside Gotham General, where Bruce Wayne under the pseudonym Mycroft Malone still lay at death's door. With a deep sigh, he walked through the doors of the hospital.

He had worked here many times before. His current level of wealth and fame had ensured he was beholden to no man save Owlman, but he still had a great deal of clout with the hospital (and every other in Gotham), and so could go there to lend his medical expertise when it was needed. And really, they were all glad to have him.

Slowly but purposefully, he slipped into his surgeon's clothes. He picked up the case of tools that had been left for him, and opened them to take a look. To his eyes, they were the same as any other set of surgeon's tools, but he knew the poison was there.

Sighing wearily, Thomas Elliot closed the case and made his way to where "Mycroft Malone" was being kept. The other surgeons were already expecting him. Outwardly he remained calm but inwardly his mind was racing; he had never killed anyone before. Not really. Yes, he'd accepted Owlman and the League's offer to kill his abusive father, but they had offered and he'd accepted. He had not explicitly ordered them to do it. This though, this would be a direct killing by his own hand.

_Keep calm, Elliot. You can do this. It's you or him. And he's ninety years old at this point. He's lived his life. I have a right to live **mine**._

And with that self-justification of dubious validity behind him, Thomas Elliot stepped into the surgery room.

Outside Gotham General, looking down on it, were two men. One dressed in the same League garb and cat mask he'd been wearing for over thirty years, and the other in far more nondescript clothes.

"Well?"

"I swapped the poisoned surgeon's tools for clean ones. Thomas Elliot won't know the difference."

"Good."

"Ballsy move, going behind the back of the leader of the League of Shadows."

"My master may be my uncle, but Bruce Wayne is my father. And as much as he and I no longer see eye to eye, that fact remains true. Even if my father must die, he deserves a better death than what my uncle had planned for him in there."

"Fair enough." The other man replied.

"And what about you?" Aion questioned. "Why did _you_ decide to help me in this? He _did _sack you after all."

"Yeah, that's true. But it's like you said; he and I may not see eye to eye, but he's still my father. Or at least the closest thing I had to one. My dad was a no-good hood who was too busy getting whacked by the last Two-Face to raise a son. Bruce though, he tried his best with me." Jason shrugged. "I was just too angry to be helped."

"Well, it's done now. My father will live, and Owlman will be denied his final victory...for now. Good-bye, Jason Todd. I hope we don't meet again. It would be a shame to have to kill the man who saved my father's life."

**Author's Notes: Yep, I did it. I turned Batman into Iron Man in this chapter. I figured that short of making him go into the Lazarus Pit a second time (which I was never going to do), this was the only way to justify having Bruce still fighting the good fight at such an advanced age.**

**And just to clarify, Jason Todd was still the second Robin here. Carrie came after.**


	9. 2010s: Finale

**Author's Note: Alright, here we are! The final chapter!**

_2019_

"Everyone's here?" Selina asked.

"Everyone's here, mom." Bruce Wayne Jr. replied. "Me, Lara, the twins, Helena and her family, Tim and Steph and theirs, Barbara, Cass...even Jason Todd, Jean-Paul, and...Bill-Bob. They all came."

Selina nodded. "Good, that's good. I...I didn't want anyone to miss this."

BJ put a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"I've faced down far, far worse things in my day." Selina said. "I can handle this."

"This is a whole different kind of challenge from facing super villains." BJ pointed out.

"I can handle it." Selina insisted. Then, the hardness in her face softened. "I need to, BJ. It has to be me."

"Alright then. If that's how you want it." He took his mother's hands in his and squeezed them. "We're all here for you."

"Thank you, BJ." Selina hugged her son tightly. "Come on. We should go out and join the others."

Selina and Bruce Wayne Jr. went into the main room of the church. Filling the benches were all those Bruce Wayne Jr. had named and more; members of the GCPD, the long-grown up Teen Titans, even the members of the Justice League, Superman and Wonder Woman chief among them. Getting up to the stand, Selina Kyle Wayne looked out at all of the faces in front of her, breathed in deeply, and said: "This, is how it happened: this, is how the Batman died."

_100 Hours Earlier_

Selina was waiting to see him off when Bruce stepped out onto the landing pad for the Batplane. With his power armor's flight, he didn't need to use the Batplane, but he still used the same entrance/exit for flying out. He kissed his wife before his helmet's faceplate came down.

"I won't be long."

"Yes you will." Selina said, shaking her head and smiling. "But I'm used to it by now. Just make sure you win."

"I always do." Batman returned, even though they both knew that wasn't true at all. No, he'd lost plenty of times over the years. But at such an old age, Batman found that sometimes bravado was better than pessimism.

_I really have changed. The younger me would have found anything other than blunt honesty unthinkable._

But, that was old age for you. Though physically he appeared to be a man in his sixties, in reality Bruce was now over a hundred years old. The same thing was true of Selina. And though they didn't look their age, they felt it emotionally. A century was a long time to be alive, especially when the world outside was so different from the one they'd spent their youths in as to be almost unrecognizable. That, and almost everyone they'd ever known from that earlier time were long dead now, friend and foe alike.

All, save a few.

"I'm sorry, Bruce, but we have to go." Came a voice Bruce was very familiar with by now. Turning, he saw the man he'd known for eighty years now, still with the iconic crimson "S" on his chest and cape of the same color billowing as he flew and landed. Kryptonian longevity ensured he still looked no older than thirty-five or so, to which Bruce did his best to not be jealous. And most important, he still had the heroic spirit that Bruce had been reluctant to acknowledge when they'd first met but now was always grateful for.

_To think I ever distrusted this man. _

Of course, he hadn't known him then. Bruce knew he'd have done nothing different if he had to repeat that first meeting eight whole decades ago. He walked over to his old friend. "I'm ready."

Superman nodded, and then the two were off, flying through the air and then well beyond Gotham City. As they continued to fly, going higher and higher into the sky until soon they were in the blackness of space, Batman wished he could be down there in Gotham helping out. Gotham was his home, after all, and it still needed him. Taking back Gotham City from Lincoln March and freeing it from his control had been a lengthy, tedious, piece-by-piece affair. After so many decades his influence was so entrenched in the city that it was hard to shake out, and eventually they'd all had to accept that they would never remove it completely in their lifetimes. A lot of it was technically clean, and even the dirty parts, like that "Court" Owlman used to covertly maintain order by silencing troublesome individuals with the Talon assassins, were hard to root out.

Yes, it was slow going, but the whole family was chipping in. Helena and BJ were long since retired, but they and the other veterans mentored new, younger heroes like Lark, Bluebird, and the superpowered duo Gotham Boy and Gotham Girl into continuing the good fight, as well as waging war in the board rooms and the court rooms so as to get rid of corruption that superheroes might not be able to touch, but principled and courageous civilians could. They'd gotten some wins here and there, but the battle was still on. Were things elsewhere in the world not such a mess, Batman would still be down there in the thick of it. Especially with the posthumous followers of the late Scarecrow trying to throw the city into chaos with their mad "Fearpocalypse" plan.

"Do we have any word on the situation regarding Brainiac's ship?" Batman asked as he and Superman continued to fly towards it. Superman received the message into his own helmet that was part of the space-suit he was wearing over his usual costume.

"Lara and the twins said they had it under control, but then the ship apparently went quiet. I told the twins to stay put and that we'd investigate. Lara went in to check first, and she hasn't responded since."

Batman thought about it. Odds are, Superwoman had been taken captive by Brainiac, meaning he wasn't down and out just yet. But in that case, why had his ship gone dark? It didn't add up. If Brainiac was hoping to keep luring heroes in a few at a time, then he wasn't the genius he claimed he was. Superman, Batman, Knightwing, and Flamebird would be too much, even for him. They'd already beaten him back and away from Earth, and now they'd finish the job. They just needed to do it before the Regime did. Thinking that prompted Batman to say: "You know what might happen; Connor and his followers could be there too."

"I know, Bruce. I'll do what's needed."

Batman hadn't enjoyed poking at that old wound, but he had to; Connor Kent, a junior clone of Superman who had once served as "Superboy", had adopted a more extremist view of crimefighting (and prevention), after Metropolis was destroyed during the Crisis of '06. In a way, Superboy died during those events, and in his place was someone who believed quite firmly that the ends did in fact justify the means. He had disappeared for two years before resurfacing in 2008, and when he did, it was a five-year long conflict. A sort of "civil war" between superheroes. Many of the younger heroes, who had admired Connor before and sympathized with his worldview, joined him. A few of the older ones did too, having finally become disillusioned with the old-fashioned way of doing things. Most of the old guard though, led by Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman, insisted on maintaining the principles that had guided superheroes from the beginning. They had been happy to see that not _all_ of the younger heroes had sided against them.

And so the battle-lines had been drawn, and war ensued. In 2013, their side seemed to finally win. But then, four years afterwards, it all started up again. Connor's people freed him from his red sun prison, and the fighting resumed. Ironically, Brainiac's arrival gave them all a reason to work together against the common enemy, but the alliance didn't last. They still disagreed too much on what the best thing to do was. Connor's faction desired Brainiac's tech for themselves, to use it to impose their worldview on everyone else. So the fighting continued.

"Connor's not the only one we have to worry about." Superman pointed out as they finally got within sight of Brainiac's ominous skull-ship. "Remember that Black Adam's on his side. I can take either of them solo, but not both at once."

"That's why you brought _me_ along." Batman replied. "My power armor has kryptonite energy and weapons it can draw on. And I've also had Firestorm use his powers to synthesize gold kryptonite for me. I know you don't want me to use that on Connor, but..."

"No, I do, Bruce. Connor's too far gone, and depowering him means we won't have to kill him. It's the best way."

"Just stay out of range when I use it, otherwise you'll be de-powered too. And the world needs Superman more than ever these days."

Superman smiled. "I don't think I've ever heard you admit that the world needs me before, Bruce."

"I've thought it for years." Batman admitted. "But say it aloud? No, this is my first time...to your face, that is."

Superman chuckled in spite of himself. He knew he shouldn't. What they were doing wasn't a joke, but he still couldn't help but appreciate his old friend's candor.

"We've come a long way, Bruce. I still remember when you always carried Kryptonite around with you whenever we talked."

"I still do." Batman said as they entered the Skull-Ship alongside their grandchildren. "I'm your friend, not insane."

Entering the cold, sterile halls of Brainiac's ship, the four superheroes said not a word. Batman looked at Knightwing and Flamebird as they all kept moving. He still remembered a time that now felt like a lifetime ago, when the twins were plucky young teenagers first suiting up as superheroes in the 80s. Now they looked at least as old as Superman did.

_We're all old these days. _Batman thought sadly.

Finally, the group came to the center of the ship. There, restrained by metal cables with a column of red sunlight shining down on her, was Superwoman. So that was one mystery solved. But it was who was sitting on Brainiac's throne that was a surprise to everyone...except Batman.

"Hello again, Bruce. _So_ glad you could come."

"Lincoln. What are you doing here?" Batman demanded. "Where's Brainiac?"

"Dead. The High Councilor saw to that, and I helped him do it. In exchange, I get a place in his new world order."

"Connor's set out to eliminate criminals like you." Superman pointed out. "Why would he ever agree to that?"

"You think too simplistically, Superman. The High Councilor understands that I want what he wants; to _control _crime, and use that control to make the world _better_. If I keep Gotham under control, the High Councilor is content. He'll help me return order to Gotham, and then I'll stay out of his way while he conquers the rest of the world."

"You're willing to just stand by and let him take away the planet's freedom?" Superman asked.

Owlman laughed without much humor. "Good God, you're actually surprised? Bruce clearly hasn't told you much about me, has he?"

"He's told _us _everything about you." Knightwing retorted, eyes glowing a bright, frosty blue. "You may have been a handful for grandpa, but you've never faced Kryptonians before."

"_Half-_Kryptonian, and yes, I have. In any case, what makes you think I came alone?"

All at once, a dazzling red blur appeared out of nowhere, and Superman suddenly found himself getting hit from all sides at once. Trying to focus on his attacker, Superman realized all at once that whoever it was they were fast even for him. Around and around the red blur went, continuing to hammer away at him before Superman finally managed to time it right and land a hit.

"Flash!?" Flamebird exclaimed. "What's he doing working for..." Flamebird's sentence was left unfinished as she and everyone else got to see who it actually was:

Standing up again, the stranger revealed himself to be not the Flash, but a different man. One in a dark red bodysuit with armor plating worn over that, including armored boots and gauntlets. On the chest was the insignia of a cut-in-half silver bat logo with a lightning bolt divide between the two halves. Covering his head and face was a dark red cowl that resembled the Flash's, only with the mouth covered by more armor.

All of a sudden, a large, glowing green hand of hard-light energy materialized and wrapped around Knightwing, restraining him in a crushing grip. Descending from the shadows came the source of the green light, a gaunt figure in a costume that looked like an armored fighter pilot suit with the color scheme of a Green Lantern and the glowing green logo of that faction to go with it. But he covered his face with a Batman cowl, and had the bat symbol on his chest also.

More figures emerged from the shadows; one looked like Doomsday, the monster that had killed Superman over twenty five years ago, but it too wore a Batman cowl. Another was female and carried a trident that looked the same as the one Aquaman had always used. One that flew in on jet boots looked not unlike a robot version of Batman sans the cape, and one was a towering brute in sky blue armor with a helmet that had bat wings on the sides and brandishing a large, golden sword.

But it was the last one that was the most disturbing and sickening to look at; he was gaunt like the Green Lantern one, and garbed in a black leather ensemble with a tight-fitting longcoat that was tattered and scalloped at the bottom. His hands and exposed mouth were chalk white, and he bore a horrid, red lipped grin that Batman had hoped he would never see again after that night in 1986. A black Batman cowl with a metal, spiked strip over the eyes concealed anything else of his face, and held in his hands were chains on the other end of which were a trio of youths who couldn't have been older than fifteen. All had the same ghostly white skin, red lipped grins, and green hair that Batman knew all-too well. And all were dressed in the original Robin costume.

"What...what are these things, Lincoln?"

"These? These are _you, _Bruce. Clones of you that I made, plus one android. Each one combined with the DNA of others in the costumed crowd and genetically engineered to be the ultimate weapons. They are my greatest creations, completely loyal to me and without equal. They are the Red Death, the Dawnbreaker, the Devastator, the Drowned, the Murder Machine, and the Merciless."

"And that one?" Batman asked, pointing at the one holding the chains who was continuing to grin maniacally as the three Robins tugged at their restraints like rabid dogs.

"Him? Why, he's the Batman Who Laughs of course. A clone of you exposed to samples of the Joker's blood, along with the chemicals that created him all those decades ago. I did the same for the Robins. Clones of your first Boy Wonder, Bruce."

"...you're a sicker man than I thought, Lincoln."

"Don't be melodramatic, Bruce. Difficult as that may be for you." He stood up: "Dark Knights, you know what to do. Kill the Kryptonians. But Batman is mine."

Wasting not time, Batman took out the red sun lamp with a wrist laser. It sputtered and gave off sparks and the crimson light winked out. Superwoman didn't need too much longer after that to regain her bearings and break free of her restraints. After that, she, Superman, and the twins were engaging the Dark Knights as Owlman got up off his throne, and rocketed towards Batman. He slammed into him with the full-force of his jet-boot assisted charge, and carried him away from the others. Batman tried to force him off, but Owlman's power armor gave the wearer as much super strength as Batman's. That was the whole point.

"What do you think, Bruce? Do you think that this time, we'll finally finish it for good? That this will be our _real _final battle?"

The two's flight ended as they crashed into one of Braniac's trophy rooms and then out the other end, smashing down onto a steel floor on a catwalk. Below were cavernous depths. That was the thing about Brainiac's ship; through some feat of esoteric super-science, the ship was actually much larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside.

"Those monstrosities you've created won't defeat Superman and the others."

"Oh no? You've never seen them in action before. They'll kill Superman and Superwoman, and then your grandchildren. I'll enjoy that second part." Raising his hands, the palms of Owlman's gauntlets glowed a scarlet red before unleashing searing beams of plasma. Batman's power armor weathered the shots, but they still staggered him and left scorch marks on the chest plate. He flew at Batman, hitting him hard enough to send him flying through the air. Batman recovered in mid-air and rocketed towards Owlman. Owlman tried to fly out of the way but Batman grabbed his leg and slammed him into the floor hard enough to leave a depression in the bridge. Batman followed it up by unloading a payload of explosive and energy projectiles on him. Unfortunately, a force-field was activated to protect Owlman in time.

"Lincoln, you're pathetic."

"Am I?" Owlman asked as he let the force-field drop to unleash several more plasma beams. Batman saw these coming in time and flew out of the way.

"Yes, you are. You've accomplished so much throughout your life, Lincoln; you built your own fortune, your own company, and achieved incredible power. You even got a longer life than most thanks to the Lazarus Pit. But what have you done with it all? Spent your life obsessively trying to ruin mine and get revenge on a man who didn't even know you existed!"

"You forget about how I _also_ made Gotham a better place for everyone. An accomplishment you and your family of costumed do-gooders seem hellbent on undoing."

He fired more plasma beams. Batman dodged these and rocketed shoulder first into Owlman, hitting him like they were in a football game, only they were playing to win more than a trophy. Owlman was knocked backwards but quickly recovered and flew at Batman yet again. He punched Batman in his helmeted head, then drove his fist into the chest. Batman's armor held, but the chestplate was dented by the blow. He fired a two-handed, point-blank energy blast right at Owlman, which was enough to send him falling back down onto the bridge. The already damaged structure cracked further.

Hovering over him, Batman said: "You rule Gotham through deception, coercion, and mob rule, Lincoln. That's not a better Gotham. It's just a Gotham with shinier buildings and sneakier criminals."

"You can't remove all the crime in a city, Batman."

"I can try."

Descending with superhuman speed, Batman landed feet-first on Owlman, and this was enough to at last destroy the damaged bridge and cause it to give way. Owlman fell for only a short while before flying up again and shooting a grapple hook at one of Batman's jet-boots. The Nth metal harpoon tore through the jet-boot, and Batman's flight was disrupted. Pulling with superhuman strength, Owlman dragged Batman down. Flying towards the depths below and then up again, Owlman swung and sent Batman smashing into another room.

Batman struggled to get up, but Owlman was already on him. He slammed into Batman, and began trying to tear off pieces of his power armor. Searing red energy blades (more plasma no doubt), popped out of Owlman's gauntlets, and he stabbed one into the area near Batman's left shoulder. Batman grabbed the other arm before the blade could go into his chest or head, keeping the red tip away as Owlman tried and failed to break the grapple.

"Activate...full-suit EMP."

A blinding burst of energy came out of Batman's armor. Batman knew Owlman's own armor was EMP-resistant, but the attack was still enough to disorient him and by extension weaken his efforts. Just what Batman had been counting on. He kicked Owlman, using his jet-boot to put more oomph into it, and managed to get Owlman off of him. From his armor, Batman took out a cylinder that when activated produced a blue sword blade. Moving in, he and Owlman began to trade blows, sword versus wrist blades.

By this point, Batman and Owlman had fought each-other so many times since that first battle sixty-two years ago that they knew the other's every trick. There wasn't a punch, kick, or feat of swordplay the other had in their arsenal that the other wasn't already very familiar with. On that level, everything about the duel felt almost routine. Enough so that Batman felt compelled to say: "What's the point of this, Lincoln? We both know we're too evenly matched. We always have been."

"You know why, Bruce." He lunged and managed to deliver a long slash that cut across Batman's chest plate and took off one of his pauldrons. "Never underestimate a good distraction."

In a blue blur, Batman slashed with his sword and managed to slice Owlman's helmet in two. As the two pieces clattered to the floor, Batman looked at the face of Lincoln March, still youthful even now due to repeated dips in the Lazarus Pit's rejuvenating waters. Only now, he bore a long, diagonal red scar over his face from the sword strike. The helmet had taken most of the force of the slash though, so the cut was only a light one.

"Good blow, Bruce. But you won't get another."

Owlman surged at Batman, but Batman ducked and rolled before running off.

"Oh no you don't!" Owlman called back, rocketing towards him on his jet-boots once more. He rammed into Batman, but at that moment, Batman stabbed with his sword...into himself.

Owlman gasped as he felt the sword blade go into him, realizing all at once that Batman had stabbed himself to get at him. With not a little effort, Batman pulled the sword out of both of them, and Owlman fell.

"I won't let you stop me, Lincoln. I'm ending this for good." And with that vow, Batman made his way to the communications chamber of the Skull-Ship. By now, the fight between the Dark Knights and the Kryptonians had spilled into the other areas of the ship; Superman was slugging away at the Devastator for all he was worth, and the Batman clone injected with the Doomsday virus responded in kind. Murder Machine and Dawnbreaker exchanged projectiles with the twins, and Superwoman held out valiantly against the Drowned, The Merciless, and the Red Death all at once. She wasn't doing well.

Batman wanted to dive in and help them, but in his current state he knew that would be foolish. So instead he kept going to where he knew he could send out a signal to other Justice Leaguers. Get them to come to the Skull Ship and lend their aid against the Dark Knights. And with any luck, all the fighting could tear the wretched ship apart while they were at it. Under Brainiac it had caused enough damage, and Batman wasn't about to let either Owlman or the High Councilor misuse it's power too.

Batman tried to fly, but with one jet-boot still ruined, he wasn't able to maintain it. So he had to run. The armor enhanced his speed such that that wasn't a disaster, but he knew that once Power Woman fell Red Death might start looking for him, and then he'd be lost. Finally though, after some amount of time wandering through the maze-like tunnels of the Skull-Ship, all the while the din of combat echoing throughout, Batman reached the master control panel. First things first, he locked down Brainiac's trophy room so that the bottled, shrunken down cities he'd collected were kept safe from the melee for at least a little while. Next, he sent out a signal: "This is Batman; a situation has developed on the Skull Ship. Calling all Justice Leaguers to our position. I repeat, calling _all _Justice Leaguers to our positio-"

BANG! Shots rang out. Batman gasped as he realized that bullets had penetrated his armor. Penetrated his armor...impossible. The armor was built to withstand tank rounds and machine gun fire from fighter jets. Nothing could possibly...

"_Eighth _Metal, Batsy." Came a voice that was his own, but with the inflections and speech patterns of his most hated foe. "Little something the boss man discovered a few years back. My gun's bullets are made of them. Goes through just about anything like a knife through butter. Or, you know, Tobias Whale at a buffet." He chuckled before closing the distance between himself and Batman, who was now slumped over as the injuries from both the gunshot wounds and the sword stab took their toll.

"You know, all of us wondered which one of us would be the one to kill you. We even took bets on it. Debated, argued, called each-other names, _everything. _But you see, deep down, I think we all knew...it was _always _going to be me." He aimed his gun right at Batman's helmeted head.

"Just like the real Joker..." Batman muttered. Using his one good jet boot, he blasted himself backwards in a way that was most awkward but still achieved the desired result; he slammed into the Batman Who Laughs, throwing off his aim wildly and causing the shot to miss.

"...you talk too much."

Moving in, Batman punched his homicidal double in the face, knocking him down and hopefully out. But then his Robins were all over him, leaping onto him and trying to tear off his armor and bring him down. Batman threw them off him one by one, but no sooner had he finished that did Power Woman's bloodied, battered form get thrown at his feet. She hit the ground dramatically, and Batman knew what it meant. Sure enough, the blur that was the Red Death entered, and next thing Batman knew he was being hit from all sides, and worse, his armor was being torn off piece by piece. Soon, almost all of it was gone, leaving him defenseless as well as injured.

"Looks like he didn't get to kill you after all." The Red Death observed. The Drowned stepped in, trident ready. Bruce looked up without even flinching. Sure enough, the Drowned drove her trident into him. Bruce cried out in agony as the three tips went into his stomach, sending out spurts of blood. Pulling the trident out, the Drowned let Bruce collapse.

"That's enough." Came Owlman's voice. Limping into the room, his gaze fell on each of his Dark Knights one by one. "He's _mine _to finish off."

The Dark Knights heeded their creator's order and backed off. Continuing to limp towards Bruce, and leaving blood behind him all the way, one of Owlman's leg plates opened to reveal a concealed gun. Joe Chill's. Taking it out, Owlman aimed it at Batman's head. He _almost _pulled the trigger, before the sound of a familiar voice he had never thought he'd hear again called out to him: "_Thomas..._"

Whipping around at the sound of his birth name, and the familiar voice who said it, Owlman was stunned to see, standing there, a ghostly apparition of his late wife, Julie Madison.

"_Thomas...enough_."

"Julie...this is a trick. An illusion."

She shook her head. "_No. No trick, Thomas. It's me. My spirit was summoned here by friends of your brother's. So I could talk to you_."

Owlman shook his head. "Bruce thought you could reason with me where no one else could, is that it?"

"_Will you not listen to me?_" Julie asked, her already ethereal face taking on a sad and disappointed look.

"Julie...don't take this from me. I'm _so _close to getting what I've always wanted! I can finally finish off my hated brother and be done with it!"

"_Is that really what you want the most? What about what we had, Thomas? Was that not enough for you?"_

"That isn't fair, Julie."

_"Neither is what you're doing here. What you've been doing for so many years. Thomas..." _She raised a ghostly hand to touch his face, but of course, she couldn't make physical contact. Not anymore. It was only through the magics of those "friends" of Batman's she'd mentioned that she could even be seen and heard at all. Only a metaphysical force can make another one visible.

"..._I loved you. I loved the years we had together. I was happy and content. But you...you rarely were. You had so much anger inside you. And it seemed that no matter how much I loved you, I couldn't cure you of it. I wish that I had..."_

This seemed to affect Owlman. He lowered his head, as if conceiving something too terrible or shameful to acknowledge. Perhaps he was. "I...I know you did your best, Julie. And I appreciated it. But there was always darkness in me. The orphanage saw to that. It wasn't your fault you couldn't heal me completely."

_"Maybe it's not too late." _Julie pointed out. _"Maybe I still can."_

Owlman shook his head. "No, Julie. It's too late for me. I've done too many things to go back now."

"_I don't believe that. It's not too late to make the right choice, Thomas."_

"And what would that be?"

"_You know. You've always known. Deep down. I believe that there's good in you, Thomas. You only need to be willing to let it out..."_

Owlman thought about it. For a while, he just stood there, contemplating, and Bruce, stripped of his armor, injured, and bleeding out from his multiple injuries, watched him. And as he did, he thought about just which friends of his who had used their magics to call forth Julie Madison's spirit: Doctor Fate, Zatanna, and the now elderly but cynical as ever John Constantine. Sadly, none of them had been available for the mission to Brainiac's ship, as they were each busy handling other problems planet-side. But at least they'd done this.

Bruce knew someone needed to get the Skull-Ship back to Earth where the rest of the Justice League and their allies could move in and stop the monsters Owlman had created, as well as take control of the ship so that it didn't fall into the wrong hands. But Bruce couldn't do it. He had lost so much blood he couldn't move. Any one of these injuries would have been bad in his prime, and he was well past that. Simply put, he was dying and he knew it. Which meant, perversely, that it was in Owlman's hands. His, and the spirit of his late wife who Bruce had had tag along just in case they ran into his old foe.

_It wasn't easy calling you into play, Julie. Zatanna, Fate, and Constantine had to pull a lot of strings to summon you. Don't let us down now..._

Finally though, Owlman said: "I wish we'd had more time, Julie."

"_I know, Thomas. But we can't change what's happened. All we can do is what's best for the future."_

Owlman nodded, and told his Dark Knights to stay put. "I have something important that needs to be done."

"But master, the Batm-"

"I said stay put, Dawnbreaker." Owlman returned harshly. "That's an order." And with that, he was gone. Not long after, Bruce felt the Skull-Ship move again. And moreover, move _very _quickly. Soon, it landed, and not long after it did, holes began to be made in it. Bit by bit pieces of the Skull-Ship were torn off to make way for the heroes outside. Several generations of superheroes stood at the ready to engage the monsters within, and powerful as the Dark Knights were, even they weren't overcoming those odds. Smiling with satisfaction at this as the last of his life finally left him, Bruce shut his eyes for the final time.

An instant later, and he was facing Julie again, now in the same state she was in. He smiled at her. "Thank you, Julie. We couldn't have done it without you."

She smiled. "Really? The great Batman needed help from little old me? I'm touched." Her smile faded as she turned serious: "Thank _you_, Bruce. For giving me the chance to save the man I love. I just hope he actually does do the right thing."

"If he doesn't, he'll have my family to deal with." Bruce's face fell as he said that. "I'll miss them."

"It won't be forever, Bruce. Everyone ends up like us sooner or later. We all go over to the other side."

"I know, Julie. I just hope, in their cases, that it won't be for a while longer. They all deserve the best."

"I hope so too." There was a pause, and then: "We can't stay much longer, Bruce. We'll have to go soon."

"I know."

"Are you prepared?"

"Is anyone?"

Julie said nothing. She held out a hand, and Bruce took it. In that moment, he wondered how different things might have been if he actually had returned her feelings for him all the way back in the 1930s when they'd been young. But that had been a lifetime ago. A lifetime with Selina. And the fact was, Bruce's love for her still held strong. No, he wouldn't have exchanged that. Even if Julie had offered him the world.

_I'll see you again, Selina. I promise. In the meantime, take care of the family for me._

And then Bruce and Julie disappeared into the light, and returned to that great unknown beyond the veil.

_Present_

Once the service was over, Selina sat silently, looking out at the city her fallen husband (and herself), had dedicated their lives to. Suffice to say it was a very different sight then what it had once been. Lincoln's actions, and just the general passage of time, had seen the once gothic city that looked like it belonged in any one of a number of films from Selina's youth, was now a glittering, shiny city of the future. But it was still Gotham. It was the city that had played host to dark heroes and colorful villains alike, and had weathered decades of conflict between the two, and generations of crime and corruption before that. Gotham was the city that lived in an abyss, but thanks to the efforts of her husband and others, had managed to pull itself out of that abyss and become something better. And it was with that in mind that Selina thought again to the passage she had closed her eulogy to Bruce with:

_I see a beautiful city, and a brilliant people, rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life; peaceful, useful, prosperous, and happy. It is a far, far better thing that I do...then I have ever done. And its a far, far better rest that I go to, then I have ever known._

"Rest well, Bruce." Selina whispered. "You've earned it." She felt tears in her eyes again, but blinked them back. She'd done plenty of crying already, and she needed a break from it. She turned to see her children standing there waiting for her. "Mom..." Helena said apologetically. "Everyone else is leaving..."

"I understand." Selina said with a nod. Getting up slowly, she walked over to her three children and hugged them tightly. She looked at the one who had left the family long ago. "I'm so glad you came."

"It was the right thing to do."

"Yes it was." Selina agreed. "Come on, kids. Let's go home."

"My home is no longer here." Aion said. He turned to leave his mother and siblings, but before he did, he added: "I will see you all again. I promise."

"Why go back to the League? Owlman's been defeated..."

"Yes, BJ, but his son and wife remain. My place remains with the League. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to go back..."

"Yes, Helena, I do."

"Let him go." Selina said. "He made his choice a long time ago. We can't change it for him."

"I meant what I said; I will see you again."

"And we you." Selina returned, before adding: "Keep the Ninjas out of Gotham."

"I will do what I can." Aion returned. And then he was gone.

"At least he came for the funeral." BJ observed.

"Yes, at least he came for that."

"So what now, mother?" Helena asked. "What do we do now?"

Selina smiled. "Helena my dear, I'm disappointed. You should know what; Owlman may finally be out of our hair, but his Court of Owls is still active, and so is the High Councilor. That means we've still got a city to save."

"Yeah, I thought so." She smiled. "Someone else will have to be Huntress though. Costume doesn't look as good on a seventy-year-old."

All three chuckled at that, and left together. And as they did, the bright light of the sun shone over Gotham City.

_20 Years Later_

He tried not to be nervous.

Looking out at the glimmering, shiny, hi-tech city in front of him, with it's incredible skyscrapers, large neon signs, and rainbow of advertisements that covered the city from one end to the next, Terry McGinnis felt as though he were seeing it all for the first time. He'd spent his entire life in Gotham City, but he'd never seen it from this perspective before.

_The perspective of a hero..._

A hero. Not a full week ago, he had never dreamed of being that, angry, directionless teenager and former Juvenile hall inmate that he'd been. A week ago he'd felt boxed in, trapped, and with nowhere to go in life. A week ago his father was still alive, and he was arguing with him constantly. He missed his father, but took some small solace in the fact that he'd brought down both the killer and the corporate sleaze who'd given the order.

And now here he was, wearing the suit, brandishing the equipment, and ready to take on the worst that the Gotham City of 2039 had to offer.

_"McGinnis, focus."_

Terry shook his head and frowned. He still hadn't totally gotten used to his "boss" barking orders in his ear all the time, Grandson of the original Batman or not.

"Hey, it's 'Batman' when I'm in the field."

"_You've still got a bit of a ways to go before you've earned that, kid_." The voice on the other end replied. "_Consider this a test-run."_

"Come on, you wouldn't have let me keep wearing this suit if you didn't think I deserved it."

"_Alright, hotshot. Since you're so sure. The Batcomputer's detecting Jokerz activity not far from your position."_

"Jokerz? I was punching their lights out way before I put this suit on. Oughta be a cakewalk."

"_I'm surprised anyone your age uses that phrase anymore." _

"Hey, cut us some slack. It's not a different language we're using."

"_Could have fooled me. Anyway, get to it."_

"Already moving, Alfred."

He outstretched his arms, and out popped blood red bat wings. Rocketing off the rooftop via jet-boots built into his sleek black batsuit, Terry flew through the air, off to engage the Jokerz.

_Look out, Gotham City; here comes Batman Beyond!_

**Author's Notes: Got the blue Batman sword from the Brave and the Bold cartoon actually. So no, it's not exactly a Star Wars reference (although I guess you could argue that BatB's bat-sword is itself one)**

**And just to clarify for those who might have been confused by that last part, the "Alfred" here is Alfred "Alfie" Wayne, who I introduced in the 80s chapter. He's the son of Helena Wayne and Patroclus Trevor. **


End file.
